


Two Lips To Bite

by venividivici



Series: Just Like Yours [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Infidelity, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Mpreg, Mpreg Niall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:29:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 90,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2483099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venividivici/pseuds/venividivici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ON HOLD]<br/>Non-AU. There's always been this fire inside of Niall for Zayn. There's always been this burning sensation in him that only grew with time for the man he fell in love with; this overwhelming phenomenon that will never go away.<br/>Only now this raging fire is for a whole new reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> even though this is tagged as part of a series, reading JLY isn't mandatory. you can read it, though, for better understanding but that's totally optional.  
> i'm more than halfway done this work so the pauses between chapters will not be long, i promise! (in case of any regular readers, i might've said the same thing for endure but i'm serious! this story is the only one i'm working on and i have all of it outlined; it's more setting it up fluently)  
> as always i hope you enjoy :) xx

The living room is filled halfway with people Niall's loved his whole life and others for maybe not as long but just as much.

They're all roaming through the unused spaces and littering the kitchen for drinks and most are conversing with the strangers sat next to them. They're all here for Liam's belated birthday "gathering," because it's not really a party.

It makes Niall giddy, makes him internally squeal in delight and pepper kisses on Avery's head when she runs past chasing Scarlett. Louis and Harry are here with their girls, Liam's just come to terms that him and Danielle are having a baby that neither planned yet are prepared for, and Niall's mam is currently cooing with his and Zayn's puppy, a little rottweiler named Bosco.

Suddenly Niall's happiness is smudged tamed, just a little bit simmered around the edges because Zayn's not there yet. He knows he said he'll arrive around midnight and it's only half ten when Niall looks at the clock over the kitchen sink, but. But he still wants him here. Wants his husband home since everyone else is with their spouse or someone, at least.

Harry follows him into the kitchen, Piper perched on his hip as she chews on her chubby hand. They adopted her when she was barely a month old; found her in a Middle Eastern third-world country on one of their charity events. After Louis gave birth to Scarlett they promised their future children will be strictly adopted or surrogated; second male pregnancies were rare, those actually surviving the stress even rarer.

Piper's almost one with long brown hair and tan skin, big black eyes and the cutest smile ever. She's definitely a Daddy's girl, which is why she's always latched onto Harry instead of Louis.

"Hi, Piper," Niall coos, wiggling a finger towards her giggling face as she hides more into Harry's shoulder. "Hey, man. Happy you're here," he says when he steps back, patting Harry on the shoulder.

"Me too. Missed this, you know? The five of us. Well. _Four_ , at the moment. Where's Z?"

"At the studio," he pouts, literally pouts and sags against the counter behind him. "Putting the final touches on their latest character."

"How does he feel? About all of it?" Harry asks, mindlessly pulling his hair out of Piper's grasp. Niall knows he's referring to Zayn's current project.

"He's happy. Really happy, like. He dreamed of this as a kid. Wanted to sketch his own Disney movie before he even drew his first stick figure." Niall says this was a sigh, deflated with so much feeling.

This is Zayn's dream, his baby's _dream_ and he's _living_ it. He's doing what he wants and Niall never wanted anything as much. All he wants is his daughter to have a happy long life and his husband to do what he wants. And though some days Zayn doesn't get home until they're already in bed and he sometimes arrives late at night with an undercurrent of tension beneath his skin, it's worth it. Worth it when Niall sleeps next to the love of his life and lives day by day to make his family happy, make sure they have everything they need and want.

"He's living his dream," he beams, elated and overwhelmed and suppressed all at once. "My baby's smashing it."

Harry gives a smile, something small and intimate as he taps Niall's cheek. He opens his mouth to say something, something heartfelt and overly cheesy but truthful when Avery comes in, tugging the denim cloth on Niall's knee.

"Daddy?" she says, trying to push black bangs out of her blue eyes.

"Yes, Ems?" he says, tilting her chin up. She's so serious, always been serious. She's only three yet she's completely Zayn; and if Niall didn't have mental and physical proof that he carried her he'd definitely debate on whether he had any part in the making of her.

"Why is Baba on the telly?" she pouts, but it's sadder than usual; more somber than Niall's used to.

"Baba's on telly?" he asks, leaning down to pick her up, walking towards the living room when she's hoisted over his hip, burying her face in his pale neck.

Zayn _is_ on television, and now it makes sense why the room suddenly got quiet. Because it's not one of those updates about his latest sculpture he donated or some blurry photos of him, Niall and Ave leaving a restaurant.

It's Zayn with someone, someone _not_ Niall, _not_ their daughter. Someone who has long hair and breasts that are pressed against Zayn's chest and

And

And Niall can't look away. He has a semblance of mind when he firms his daughter's head on his shoulder and covers her ear from what the gossip hostess is saying, but other than that he can't bring himself to move, bring himself to breathe or blink besides eyeing where Zayn's hand is on the female's waist. It's blurry, more blurry than necessary, but that's obviously Zayn's inked forearm, that's without a doubt his inked serpent on his shoulder and that's evidently not Niall.

That's not Niall. And Niall can't come to grips with that.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him," Liam spits, and it's the only thing said for a good two minutes, until the hostess grins about extra leaked photos after the break. The commercial comes on, and people in the room slowly shuffle, as if scared to puncture the stiff atmosphere.

Niall doesn't register who leaves, but he feels a few pats on his unused shoulder, hears people offer apologies that are highly unnecessary before the door's lightly closed with each departure. Avery stays quiet through all of this. And she's so smart, knows when to listen the first time and never causes a fuss. But for once Niall doesn't want her to be smart. He wants her to poke his cheek and demand for extra marshmallows in her hot chocolate, or something. But she's silent and he needs something to bring him out of this state. He hopes, prays, begs she doesn't know what's going on. But he himself isn't entirely informed, either.

"I swear to God, I'm gonna kill him." Liam's still fuming, fisting his hands by his side and Niall has a hunch it's only Danielle's timid hand on his bicep keeping him from bursting through the door. She's only came back into the picture a bit after Avery's second birthday. And Niall's never been so thankful for her until now.

"No," Niall whispers. "No, don't do that. It's fine."

"The fuck it's not!" Liam screams, and he's making everything boil out of control, but. But he's right.

"Liam," Louis whispers, grabbing Scarlett's hand. "Liam, c'mon, the kids," he reminds. And only then does Liam huff out a breath, bring a hand to massage his forehead as he sits down to inhale evenly.

This is all too much. It's suddenly too big for Niall and he doesn't need people with him right now.

His mother's still seated, hand against her mouth as she tears occasionally and Niall's going to kill Zayn, himself.

"Daddy?" Avery asks after a bit, when the silence is too tangible for comfort. "Daddy, are you okay?" she genuinely asks, bringing a small hand to touch Niall's face. Niall looks at matching blue eyes and he is okay for the moment.

"Yeah, princess. Daddy's okay."

 

Niall suspects Harry's in the kitchen, most likely cleaning up most of the mess as discreetly as possible. Maura left minutes ago, after Niall insisted he was fine and implied he needed space for a bit. And Liam's helping Danielle stand up, big hand at the small of her back and the other at her elbow. It's cute, it's intimate and reminds Niall a lot of him and Zayn. So he looks away right as Liam makes his way over to him, not wasting time to hug the life out of him and say he'll be back tomorrow as early as possible.

"Nah, Li. Don't worry 'bout it, okay?" he tries to smile. "I'm a grown man, I'll get by. Spend these last few months with Danielle before the baby's here, yeah? You'll thank me." He tries to aim for a joke, but it falls somewhere along pitiful. Liam's too good to point it out, just pulls Niall in again and says he's there when he needs them, that Niall's the best pal he could've asked for.

It's quieter after he leaves. And for once Niall wants chaos. He wants a cacophony of erratic voices and wants a long bath by himself. But the images keep playing in his head, keep slapping him and torturing him in the most brutal of ways. He doesn't know how he hasn't reacted yet, thinks he's too numb for what's going on when Louis sits next to him.

"Hey," he murmurs, trying to get Niall's attention. "Hey, Ave is falling asleep. Wanted to know if you'd want her to sleep over ours tonight."

Niall doesn't want people doing favors for him.

"Louis, I'm fine. Why can't everyone see I'm fine?" he bites, maybe a bit too loud because the ruckus in the kitchen dies.

"I'm not going to pretend that I believe you, because I don't. I don't know exactly _how_ you feel, but." There's a pause, and Niall looks to find Louis looking at him with bitter sadness in his eyes. It's not entirely sympathy, so Niall doesn't react when Louis continues. "Fuck, you're the last person to deserve this. I swear to God, no one deserves this less than you."

Niall looks towards the floor, unconsciously rubs a hand roughly over his elbow. The telly's muted, flawless women gesturing with their hands and men in suits speaking into microphones. Piper's sleeping on the sofa across them, Bosco laying below on the floor, licking his nose with a pink tongue. It's not hitting Niall.

"Is this happening?" he eventually asks, the epitome of perplexed. "Like..." Louis waits for him to continue, watches Niall sit straight, blue eyes bulging with an ugly clarity slowly seeping its way in him. "Is this really happening? Did he...?"

"Ni, you don't have to say it."

"Zayn cheated on me?" Niall can't help but ask, turns to Louis like he'll have the answers. Despite belief Louis' probably the wisest of them all; not the smartest, but the most clever and quick-minded, easily perceptive. Niall wants an answer, needs one. He and Zayn are married, he and Zayn have... have a beautiful baby girl and are fucking married, are happy, are in love, with _each other_. Not--

"Louis, he really did?" he urges when Louis doesn't answer, only bites his lips together.

"C'mon, bud," Louis pats his shoulder, leaves it there when he turns to look ahead also, can't witness the incredulity smacked across Niall's face. "C'mon, help me pack Ave's bag, yeah? Scar wants to show her the new playhouse she has."

 

Niall doesn't want to be alone.

Harry cleaned everything, everything Niall would've liked to get his hands on. The black and yellow streamers are gone. So are the plastic utensils and plates, napkins balled up and discarded in the bin; bin currently empty after Harry tied the ends of the trash bag into a knot and stuffed it in the garbage disposal outside. The cake's put away, ice cream's refreezing and leftovers are tuppware-ed and slotted into the fridge. The floor's spotless, no lint or stray dog hair in sight, glass tables and mirrors shining obnoxiously streak less, and Avery's sleeping over her uncles'. Niall has nothing to occupy himself with, nothing to throw himself into completely. There's nothing to firm his hands on, grind about until his knuckles scream in reddened agony and puncture his muggy thoughts.

Niall doesn't want to be alone.

And he's been sitting alone for only an hour, only sixty minutes, roughly 3600 seconds and that's a short time compared to how quick Niall's thoughts are. Just two hours ago he was begging to be alone and now he's granted his wish and nothing's right. Not even Bosco's keeping him company; he's ventured off on his own, a path Niall can't take at the moment with the way this mental collision is still hitting him.

His elbows are on the table, palms meeting each other, thumbs pressed to his lips as if he's praying. But his eyes are wide open and he's alone and he doesn't want to be.

It's not hitting him, still; what he "thinks" he's going through; what he "believes" is going on. But he doesn't "know" a thing. Doesn't even know the feeling that's biting down his arms and strapping around his abdomen, squeezing the little bit of air out of him. Squeezing the little bit of life out of him.

He can't-- He really can't--

So he contemplates, just _imagines_. He imagines a world where Zayn would actually cheat on him, where his husband would actually sleep with someone else, someone else that's not _him_. He imagines a place where Zayn sleeps with a _woman_ , and Niall finds out on _television_ , in front of _everyone_ he loves, in front of his fuck-- his _daughter_ , for fuck's sake. The made-up idea casts him in embarrassment, throws his overboard and washes him with the ugliest shame he can think of, beyond what he can think of. The thought has him humiliated, boiling with so much disgrace and it's only a thought. Just a thought. Because it's not real. It didn't happen.

Zayn loves him. Zayn loves him like no other. Zayn asked him to marry him and they're married, happily married with the most amazing daughter anyone can dream of. They're happy in their moderate home with a green backyard, with settled lives after fame, with friends and family and each other. _Each other_ , and _no one else_. They're in love so it can't-- For Niall's sake and veiled strip of sanity left, cannot be true.

Niall doesn't want to be alone. And he's not alone.

Zayn's there, standing in the walkway. He's just arrived, if the shouldered jacket is anything to go by. He doesn't move, just eyes Niall. And Niall still has thumbs against his mouth, finds Zayn not coming a step forward.

Something's instantly wrong. Because Zayn never falters, never freezes in the face of Niall when he gets home. He strolls over and kisses him. Sometimes it's a peck, pulling back to throw a lazy smile at him. Other times, when Avery's not around or is already in bed, he latches onto him, kisses him surprisingly and hungrily, feels all over Niall's body for a semblance of release.

But he just... stands there, and it's so so wrong. Everything is so, so wrong. And Niall can, now. He _can_. He looks into hazel eyes, _known_ eyes, _familiar_ eyes, _adoring_ eyes, and it suddenly hits him.

Niall gapes, gasps and frowns all at once, breath of air splitting between his hands still in front of him. That's the only noise for too long, and Zayn knows, too. He must. He doesn't move, barely blinks, doesn't give a hint that he's even breathing as he takes Niall in.

Niall's been cheated on. The love of his life cheated on him and he's just staring at Niall.

Niall doesn't know what he wants.

"Where were you?" he eventually asks. A dust mote's trail through the air could be heard, could be pinpointed easily with the thick silence.

Zayn's Adam’s apple jumps, trembles before freezing with the rest of him. He's so pretty, still so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and someone slept with him that wasn't Niall. Niall's cold cold cold, freezing in the late August night, shielded in his home with no one. Zayn's no one, hasn't said a word so he doesn't inhabit life in Niall's mind, just stands like a statue, frozen and drastically beautiful.

"I was at the studio," he says. He says it genuinely. The words ring sincerely through Niall's internal chaos. He says it like he would _dropped by mum's_ ; _found a lucky penny_ ; _what should we watch?_ He says it like he normally would, Niall knows. And Niall knows Zayn wouldn't cheat on him. Niall knows he's married to a faithful man with a love too big for actions and words altogether. Niall knows the man before him more than himself.

But Niall didn't know Zayn was capable of that. And suddenly he doesn't know anything. There are cuts and bruises slashing through Niall's mind, already imprinting themselves in the turmoil cascading his bones, twisting the marrow and cutting nerve ends. There are phantom termites feeding on the open cuts, tucking in the openings, creating homes in white-hot blemishes.

_No_ , Niall thinks. A simple no. Just simple, because everything else is not. Niall can't interpret the colors blocking his vision, can't decipher the shapes and sharp lines surrounding him, meeting other ends and forming tangible objects. Niall can't explain the man in front of him, why the blond has a raging fire that's neither love nor hate.

Niall can't even tell if Zayn's telling the truth or lying right now.

"You son of a bitch."

His voice carries just far enough that Zayn hears him, strains minutely and locks in place, freezes even more. Niall wants to scream, can't command his vocal chords to rise.

"You fucking cunt," he bites, shaking his head. "You piece of shit, you lowlife motherfucker. You fucking piece of shit!"

"Niall--"

"What the fuck do you want?" _Zayn_ , he thinks, can't get the horribly sweet name off his tongue. It's sweet and he wants to savor it, doesn't want to sour it in his presence. He can't, he can. He's breathing too much and barely at all, breathing evenly and choking on thin air, on chemicals that aren't supposed to be inhaled.

How does Niall go about this? He's standing up, chair scraped back from his abrupt change in position. He stands and Zayn stands and.

Niall doesn't feel hurt. Feels numb, though. Ice doesn't even compare. Ice leaves a thrumming charge, leaves a hot frost bite and stings. This is a different kind of numb. He can't compare it to morphine, and he's had doses of it when his knee first started acting up. Can't compare it to the lovely epidural when he suffered through labor, almost four years ago. It's a numb that focuses on the fire in his throat, alters everything else into murky blandness. The numbing fire is focused on Zayn.

Zayn is stood frozen.

"What the _fuck_ do you want?"

"Niall--"

"You have nerves for coming here, you shit. You have fucking nerves."

"Niall, I--" he swallows. There's a vibration through Zayn's body, barely shaking the muscle underneath, shaking his organs in their cages and causing dread to spill unevenly through his pores.

He doesn't continue, and Niall thinks he wants him, too. He doesn't say he knows, though. He'll never know again when the one thing he was sure about was corrupted excruciatingly. Niall thinks he wants him to continue, wants to hear what he has to say. If only because it might steer his train of thought somewhere, feels at a loss of words beyond example.

"You cheated on me?" Niall pouts, can't help it. How does one go about confronting their partner of infidelity? He's sure there's a manual, whether physical or virtual. Infidelity is such a fucking trend there are tips on it everywhere. That's so ugly to Niall. It's fucking hideous. It's so scary that other people, real life human beings on this world, went through this; are going through this.

Niall's going through this. And it's because of the excuse of a man across from him, still frozen.

There's such a thing as cheating in the world. There's an ugly sin labeled cheating, and Niall's victim. Niall doesn't wish this upon anyone. Niall wishes fortune and eventual happiness to all past enemies. Niall never wished any evil on _anyone_. Not when they bashed his mother. Not when they threatened his band mates and best friends. Not when they scared little Ems on that pap-filled day at the park. He's good, tries to be good for his own well-being as well as others.

So why, oh why has he fallen victim to this?

"You did," he answers himself, grimacing. "You cheated. You fucking cheated on me. You cheated on your husband--"

"Niall, don't say that," Zayn interrupts, fearfully pleading in his timid-statue stance.

"You cheated on your fucking husband!" he screams, wants to do the opposite of everything Zayn's ever told him, ever taught him. He exhales harshly, forms fists. He feels the cold band of his ring, acknowledging it for the first time in a while. It's colder than him, betrayed and cold.

"You cheated on _me_ ," Niall whimpers. He won't cry, can't cry. His eyes sting, feel abused when they can't tear away from Zayn. Zayn, who looks lost, scared, unsure, everything Niall never wanted. He looks a way Niall's strived to steer him away from. And Niall can't bring himself to feel sympathy, nor apathy.

"Oh my God, you did. You fucking did."

"Let me explain."

"You're a cheater."

"Niall, _please_."

"You fucked someone else, you fucking--"

"I'm begging, Niall."

"Get out."

Zayn's a statue again, marble features frozen in beauty. Hazel eyes unwavering and motionless.

This isn't supposed to happen. Zayn's supposed to come home and they're supposed to be married. But Niall's only betrayed. By Zayn, of all people. By his fucking husband. Why, oh why.

"What?"

"Get the fuck out."

"This is my house, too."

"I swear to God, you better leave right the fuck now."

"Where's Avery?"

"Stay away from my daughter."

" _What_?" Zayn reacts, fucking spasms and gears back into life. He's breathing laboriously with tan shaking fingers. He's alive, a life Niall adores so much. Adores the bone and muscles that live under his skin. Adores the limbs and joints connected beneath the tan flesh and inked body. Adores the black hair, the deep eyes and pouting mouth. Adores the man more than adoration alone. Adores it all and he was cheated on.

"Get _out_ , Zayn." The name sends a knife down his throat, cuts his esophagus and punctures the sack that makes his stomach, stabs the skin and lets the gastric acid leak, burns on the way down. "Get the _fuck_ out."

"You're taking my baby girl away from me?"

"You left her when you slept with that girl."

Niall doesn't expect to say that, didn't even think it. But the words slap Zayn harshly, reels back to punch Niall as well. The words chime so clearly. So painfully. The words are more painful than anything else.

Niall can't look at him, can't let Zayn's barren look seep beneath his pale skin. Niall goes, walks somewhere, finds himself gripping the counter in the kitchen, hunching his back with the truth.

He knows Zayn's followed him, can hear his boots hit the floor with each step, finds them at the entrance of the kitchen, stops and freezes all over again.

"Niall, please let me explain," he starts, strained beyond recognition. "Niall, I. I gotta explain. I love the fucking shit out of you. Please don't do this. I fucking love you and..." he rambles, voice warbled at the end of a tunnel, barely recognizable.

Niall can hear the rush of blood flowing through his heart, his heart that's still beating, a reminder that he's alive. A reminder that this is actually happening. Niall sees his hand tighten on the edge of the counter, witnesses the veins on his hands standing with attention. Niall feels hurt, feels the seed of anguish sitting in his stomach, ready to plant itself and grow roots deep beneath his being, to stretch and wrap onto everything in its path, slowly cocooning him in the darkest way.

"You didn't just cheat on me," he blurts, doesn't realize he interrupted his husband--his fucking husband. "You cheated on our daughter. You cheated on our fucking family and I can't listen to you right now, Zayn." He bites his lips, turns to find Zayn gobsmacked, untrusting and so scared. "I can't believe you did that, Zayn. What the fuck were you even thinking."

"Just--"

"Get out!" he screeches, covering his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. "You're a cheater! You fucking cheated! You cheated on me!" he says repeatedly, doesn't stop, doesn't relent.

He's alone, soon.

The living room is filled with the emptiness and cold spots Zayn would've filled.

Niall doesn't want to be alone but finds himself wishing the emptiness wasn't so present, either.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my first plan was to update on sundays (it's midnight on sunday so technically i'm still with that plan but in my head it's saturday) but the chapters are short so i might update on saturdays and sundays? idk yet, i've gotten mild complaints about my last wip having long chapters so i'm going to slim that down, but they're too short for my liking but combining two chapters doesn't work bc i don't like that etc idk. so um.... i might update tomorrow too; or later on, since it's midnight.   
> but enjoy this! as always xx

For an inexplicable reason he can't fathom, Niall appreciates everything a slab bit more. Everything is prettier in its own flawed way. The drive to Harry and Louis' is smooth, not many cars down the empty road towards their house. The grass looks softer, the sky isn't only a baby blue, more an azure kaleidoscope perched endlessly above him. And he doesn't have to change the radio station, every tune playing seeps under his skin pleasantly, leaves a calming sea to churn slowly.

He can't stop thinking about Zayn.

Zayn, who Niall kicked out the night before. Zayn, who Niall hasn't heard a word from since the night before. Zayn, who Niall hasn't seen since the night before. Zayn, who Niall's still in love with like the day he found him on the altar, gleaming with so much affection for the blond, a teary smile on pouty lips.

Zayn, who Niall found cheated on him.

It's all so fucked up, Niall thinks. (Still thinks.) It's all so, fucking, fucked, up. He couldn't sleep. Desperately clenched his eyes shut all night, as if the strenuous effort at keeping them closed would lull him to sleep. Instead it caused a shrilling headache that pushed slumber farther and farther away.

It's so fucked up. Because today they (Zayn and Niall, ZaynandNiall, partners, husbands, parents, fucking-- two people in _love_ ) were supposed to take their daughter to the visiting circus, an event their little girl was looking forward to since she saw the iridescent tent being pulled up the month prior. Niall bought their tickets and if he was told correctly, their seats were somewhere obscured, away from knowing eye. They could've just been Zayn and Niall and Ems; not Zayn Malik and Niall Horan from former boyband One Direction, along with their biological daughter Avery Horan-Malik.

Instead it's going to be just Niall and Ems. And Niall feels a bit bad because he knows his daughter wanted her Baba there with her, with them, but he cannot even think of seeing the fucker again any time soon; only sees the scandal viewed on national television every time he pictures him.

When he parks in front of the house, in the middle of the estate (in the middle of nowhere, honestly, thanks to Harry), Niall sits there for a moment, turns off the car and slumps back in his seat.

He doesn't know how to do it. He bites his lip, rubs the steering wheel in front of him, the whole damn car a gift from Zayn (what the fuck, Zayn. What the actual fuck.), and doesn't know how to do it all.

There's a part of him, a mighty powerful part that's focused on his daughter, wanting to make sure she has a good day. Niall plans on taking her to the mall first, an exclusive mall that barely harbors any fans or strangers that'll freak out in his presence; he doesn't want to be home today. He's going to let her skip around and buy her whatever she wants. They try not to spoil her so much, him and... Him and Zayn. They have the means to buy her whatever the hell she wants, literally. But they want her to be fortunate, not spoiled rotten. So they don't always buy what she asks for, only for her own sake in the future.

But today Niall doesn't give a fuck. He'll buy her a fucking castle that's built from scratch if it'll keep his mind away from last night. He'll order a customized blueprint and hire Disney Princess actresses to stroll through the place for the rest of their lives. (Okay, he won't; but he has the right to be dramatic all he wants.) (And Avery isn't a huge Disney Princess fan, much to Niall's dismay.)

That mighty slab of sanity is focused on that, focused on _her_. But more than half, more than a healthy portion of his whole fucking being is still sitting on the dining room table, watching Zayn come inside the house not even 24 hours ago.

Niall's never had certainty concerns before, never felt drafty nor timid when it came to Zayn. He always trusted him, always fucking trusted him and he gets cheated on in return.

Niall wishes he _had_ trust issues, maybe he would've stopped it on time.

He can't dwell on it all for long, which is great. And it's even better when the reason for his paused thought is the little girl running down the porch steps towards him, smile beaming on her chubby face as blue eyes beam at him.

Avery's wearing a lot of black. And Niall knows (with a painful reluctance) that Zayn bought her that outfit because Niall always dresses her up in cotton candy blues and raspberry reds and Persian rose pinks. But Zayn, fuck him, buys dark or black clothing for her. What father does that. Like right now, she's hopping down the steps in her _dark_ purple tutu, _dark_ tights tucked into _black_ boots, her _black_ shirt riding up her tan tummy with a long-sleeve shirt under. Niall knows he bought the purple long-sleeve shirt; it's the only bright shade on her besides her eyes.

She's the most beautiful girl Niall's ever seen.

"Daddy!" she greets when she gets to the passenger side, struggling with the stubborn handle. Niall leans over to open the door, pushes it open as Avery climbs onto the seat. She's so small for her age; she's so fucking adorable.

"Hi, precious," Niall exclaims, kissing her puckered mouth when she leans in, a habit he'll never break if he has a say.

"She's almost three already, Ni," Zayn had hushly scolded when Niall pecked her on the table, about to eat breakfast.

"Alright, and?" Niall grimaced, cutting up Avery's pancakes as the little girl hummed a tune to herself.

"Stop kissing her on the mouth."

"It's just a tap, and she's my daughter."

"Our daughter?"

"Shut up. I know what my intentions are, I'm not a perv."

"Why the fu--" Niall cleared his throat, making Zayn flick his gaze to his daughter before continuing. "I don't know why you went there--"

"Because you think my motives are evil," he rolled his eyes before hissing, " _our daughter_ , for Christ's sake."

"Fine, whatever," Zayn sighed, leaning back in his chair. He didn't complain when Ave kissed him on the mouth also before going with Nanny Maura, and Niall smiled smugly as Zayn blushed joyfully.

It hurts to think about that now, almost a year later.

"Had a good time?" Niall asks her, looking up to wave at Louis and Scar by the door. Niall texted him before arriving that he didn't want to talk about it, that he just wanted to seem casual in front of Ems. So Louis casually waved goodbye at the door and Niall casually waved back as he casually put the car in gear, casually swerving down the lane, back towards the road.

"Yeah, Scarlett has a whole Barbie set, Daddy! And we played with it until Piper chewed a head off. Scar was so sad that Uncle Harry couldn't fix it," she pouts, black bangs swaying with the wind.

"Aw," Niall grumbles. "That's so sad. But I thought you didn't like playing with dolls?"

"She had a Ken doll, Daddy," she grumbles, squinting from the sunlight slanting into the roofless vehicle.

Niall's so in love with her. So in love with her father, too.

Niall could cry. The day barely started and it's already turned to shit, crumbled with the morning sun and flicked away from the light breeze. It's so shit and he can't let it be that way. For his and her sake. Fuck Zayn, fuck him, wherever the hell he is. Infuriated doesn't cover the anger Niall has coursing all around him, seeping through the worn-out crevices. He's so damn angry, excruciatingly angry. Close to actual tears, and he can't cry. Not while Ems' chatting on about her night. She never speaks this much, and Niall's taking this all in, elated with the fact his daughter had such a good time. Yet at the same time he's pressed down by the images from the TV, doesn't know how to balance it all but he needs to. Needs to, no matter how full his tear ducts are getting.

Avery's still talking, and Niall's so sad the family's broken apart. Their little family that he's in love with more than the four-letter word itself is shit. And Avery's too young to experience this. She shouldn't have to.

Niall wants to cry.

"Hey, Ems," he chirps, driving down the familiar boulevard, "wanna go to that huge mall you like? The white one with the high ceiling?"

"The one with the carousel?" she gasps, dark pink mouth dropped open.

He hums in agreement, bites his lip when she says yes excitedly.

She's tapping him, small hand trying to get his attention while the other tries to push black strands off her face.

"Daddy. Daddy, I said yes! I said yes, let's go. Please?"

"Sorry, you said it too late," he shrugs, like _oh well_. But he's already strolling through the parking lot and Avery gasps again when the building in question comes into view.

He doesn't know how he can feel so happy and depressed at the same time.

 

"Ems, can I tell you something?" he smiles, tries to make his voice lighter than how he feels.

They're at the ice cream parlor, the day's worth of shopping strewn around them in many colorful bags. They have a few hours before the circus tonight, just enough to get home and put everything away, wash themselves to get ready. But Niall needs to tell her this now, can't tell her in a place he stays at often; his fucking home. Home.

What the fuck, Zayn.

"Okay," she squeaks, high voice opposing her serious demeanor and dark hair, tan skin, dark attire. Niall loves her so much.

"Listen, honey," he starts, feels like he's trying to tell a kid they're the only one who can't go on the trip because there aren't enough seats left. "Remember the circus you wanted to go to?"

"We're going?" she smiles, momentarily abandoning her gummy bear-filled strawberry ice cream. Niall nods, keeps a tight smile as she cheers silently, focusing on her dessert with the cutest grin. She's never smiled so much in one day; Niall hates himself for having to say this. Hates Zayn more than anything.

"Yeah, Ems, we're going. But..." he keeps his grin, no matter how much it hurts. "Baba's not coming with us, okay?"

"I know," she pouts, slumps back in her seat and abandons the delicacy all together. Niall freezes, because no no _no_ she wasn't supposed to know what the fuck's going on. He promised himself he would never lie to her. He doesn't plan on telling her everything; he just doesn't want her to believe her parents are together. Something about his mother's and father's efforts at obscuring everything making him resent them now, and he doesn't want that to happen. But she wasn't supposed to find out about it at all.

"How do you know, sweetie?" he asks innocently, the farthest from it as possible.

"Baba told me yesterday, when Uncle Louis was watching a movie with me and Scar."

That motherfucker.

"He went to see you?" he smiles amusingly, burning with the deep discomfort settling in his throat. "What did he tell you?"

Avery just frowns to the floor, thick eyelashes fanning loudly as she mindlessly fiddles with the end of her skirt.

"Baba just said that he was going away for a little. He said he's not going very far but that he won't be home that much. And he said he loves me and Daddy very much."

"What else did he say, love?" He's practically whimpering, hates the fact Avery's still frowning to the floor but grateful she doesn't see his expression. "Wanna tell Daddy what else Baba said?"

Avery just shrugs, bottom lip pouting as she looks up at him, blue eyes obscenely piercing his.

"I don't remember a lot. But he said he loves me and Daddy very much a lot of times. He said he will always love us, and that he'll see me soon. And I said if I could get the sea monkeys for Christmas but he said no again."

Niall chuckles, closes his eyes and chuckles softly, picks up his daughter to sit on his lap as he puts the red cup in front of them.

"Eat up, Ems. We're gonna go see the circus tonight!"

"Okay, but Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"You love Baba, too, right?" she thoughtlessly asks, already stuffing her mouth with the pink substance.

"Too much, princess. I love your Baba too much."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said i'll post another chapter today so i'm gonna. hope you all like this xx

There are successions of interchangeable facades during the next few weeks.

Niall's happy-go-lucky every morning, breakfast already made as he goes to wake up Avery happily. She's so lazy, such an avid sleeper like her father. Niall's attentive when she chats about her latest obsession, whether it be crystallized rocks or memorizing Elmo's theme song or even attempting to hatch a refrigerated egg with a makeshift incubus made of a jewelry box and warm rags. (The result was horrid.)

Niall's responsive when they watch her favorite film again and again and again before she decides to play with action figures; he mixes Green Arrow's and Hawkeye's names often and unconsciously makes Wolverine have a squeaky voice, but Avery only giggles so it's all worth it. Niall's playful when he gives her a bath and has the tub filled to the brim with spectrum-painted bubbles, putting the foamy substance all over her face and forming a lopsided crown on her head.

But at night, during the nights he doesn't hear a peep from... from him, he's so frazzled. So fucking out of his goddamn mind, feels like he's walking out of his own body. Can't feel the cold floor under his bare feet, nor the air passing down his throat nor the clothes hanging off his skinny frame. He's losing weight, he knows it. And he fucking hates it.

He eats profusely occasionally, eats everything in sight because for those few moments the food is being chewed he feels settled, slightly closer to the ground and more stabled than before. But then other days he doesn't eat at all, almost physically retches when a plate of something cooked is in front of him during his and Avery's dinner. He doesn't eat a thing more than not and it's showing on the bony frame he's sporting. He fucking hates it.

He's so frazzled, close to passing out from the unfelt famine and feels empty in the tattered t-shirts he wears. He feels so empty in so many ways. He is empty, so fucking void of everything that mattered to him. So he drinks to fill the emptiness, fill the spaces Zayn would've. But Zayn's not, Zayn's not there and Niall's so used to him being there. Why, oh why does he have to go through this.

Niall can't figure out what went wrong, can't fathom a clue. They were fine, he thought. They were good, happy, really fucking happy. And Niall was so in love with him, so fucking enamored; in fucking love with the feeling taking over him whenever Zayn walked in the room or kissed him lightly, tan hand on the small of his back.

It's so hard to think about that, now. It's so painful, everything is. Niall wishes he had a normal job, because he's not even thirty with the rest of his life ahead of him, all the money he could ask for in the bank and he doesn't have a job. He kind of regrets the unanimous decision to finish up the band, wrap up the last album and call it a go. He momentarily regrets trying out for X-Factor at all. With a regular job he wouldn't feel so useless, wouldn't feel like his hands did nothing to support him or his life.

He still can't figure out what went wrong. So many things could've went wrong and he can't find one that makes sense, rather leaves all options open, doesn't want to be surprised when--if--he founds out Zayn's reason.

Zayn cheated on him and Niall still doesn't know why; doesn't want to, wishes he didn't have to.

Maybe what went wrong was the fact they had their first official date with a one-month-old in a carrier in the booth with them, the cutest little girl bundled up from the brisk December air as Zayn took them to a restaurant he never visited before, read good reviews as he fidgeted across Niall, the blond succumbing to grabbing Zayn's hand softly since the tan man was unnecessarily nervous. Niall hopes it's not that, would never talk to Zayn again if he indirectly blamed their daughter.

But Niall--he believes--knows Zayn, at least knows he loves their daughter more than he ever thought he could love a child.

Maybe what caused it all was the fact they didn't meet in a proper normal setting; like in uni or the collision of one's coffee spilling on the other's shirt or at a goods store. They were competitors first, colleagues second and _then_ friends, a messed up jumbled array of stages that never placed correctly where they belonged.

Maybe if Niall wasn't so curious to kiss a boy that first time, could've stop thinking about the other member of his band that swept him away without effort; maybe if he never silently agreed all those years ago with Zayn's questioning gaze to let whatever happen with them just idly run its course, then this wouldn't be happening.

But then Avery comes downstairs in the middle of his pool of depression, rubs her eye sadly with a balled hand and almost cries that she had a bad dream and couldn't find Daddy in his room. She's emotional while she's tired, uncharacteristically sentimental right before bed and after she wakes up; a quirk Zayn believes she received from Niall. She's walking over to him with a blanket clutched in her free hand, asking with a pout if she could sleep with him because she had a dream Baba was never coming home and wasn't going to celebrate her birthday with them.

And Niall's already planned to contact... contact him in a few days to discuss their dilemma before they start assorting Avery's surprise fourth birthday party. He has it all in his mind. He just can't bring himself to actually communicate with him after last seeing him so frozen that night.

Niall has to see him again, and Niall's ashamed the parts of him that still love Zayn are rejoicing with overdue use.

He's so fucking pathetic. This is all so fucking pathetic.

{~*~}

Niall's not pathetic. This whole shitty situation is. It's hell in the form of a pathetic scandal. It's all fucked up. And he feels so bad for Avery, that they can't go for a simple drive with no destination without resilient paps swarming the gate, trying to snap even the blurriest photo of them. He can't exit the theatre without them instantly surrounding them, Little Ems cowering behind him from the shuttering lights and chaotic voices mixing together horribly, causing blue eyes to peer everywhere. And Niall picks her up, puts her head on his shoulder as he covers her ear and speaks over their persistent questions, "I'm with my daughter. Show some respect." But they don't; they only want to know what's going on with him and Zayn.

Niall's going to find out today, in an hour or so.

He wants to say he's completely done with him, wants to be assured that he and Zayn are really over, done with, kaput. But Zayn's his husband, still his fucking husband and Niall didn't marry him with conditions. They married for better or for worse. And no matter how bad it is, can't get any worse, Niall married him because he loved him, loved him enough to keep his child and actually give him his all. Niall can't just stop loving him, and he's tried. He's tried and is still trying. But even if it did fade, Zayn's still Avery's father; so Niall will never be completely done with him.

It's one of Niall's off days, where he can't even chew a bite of food and wants to vomit with the nauseating fact that he's seeing Zayn for the first time in almost two months. (They've texted, just enough that Avery spends adequate time with both of them and Niall knows when she's going to rest her head wherever Zayn's staying; but they don't meet, because Niall drops Avery off with either Louis or Liam for Zayn and Zayn drops her off there, for Niall to pick her up. Niall doesn't want to see him yet.) If Niall's being honest, he threw up a few times prior, when he couldn't stomach the unbearable knowledge that he wasn't enough to keep Zayn from cheating. And this isn't like him, this isn't like Niall to empty his stomach in the toilet bowl just because his partner committed adultery. But it wasn't like Zayn to fuck everything up, either.

Niall can't believe someone so beautiful could commit something so ugly.

He's really off today, slumping down the stairs with a loose sweater and ungelled hair, dirty blonde strands falling over his forehead as he taps a knuckle over his temple to steer the growing headache away. He'll be damned if he tried to dress sexy, dress appealing to show Zayn what he lost. He can't give a shit when all his efforts before seemed to fail, anyway.

He's at the bottom of the steps when the knock comes, and he's not ready. If he'd let himself he might tremble, might bite his lip in misery and close his eyes for the last few seconds. But he's not going to let that happen. He can't. Not when he lost so much already. He blames it on the headache, on the nausea that won't go away why he freezes. Freezes just the way Zayn did. And no, he won't. Niall won't let this happen. Avery's with his mother for the day, Zayn's outside the door, and Niall's not going to lose anything else.

But everything turns to shreds when he sees Zayn. Sees him for the first time in almost two months. It's been so, so long. Niall doesn't ever want to stay away from Zayn so long, he won't. He's in love with him, so fucking in love with all of Zayn. All of the man standing at his doorstep, waiting to venture in. Niall's so--

So fucking humiliated that that's his first thought when he sees him. He can't blame it on anything but himself, his fucking self. Because Zayn's still so beautiful, still so effortlessly put together and Niall's not. He's anything but well-managed. Zayn's features haven't changed and Niall comes to the realization that he wished something did. He wished the depth of their crisis was reflected in some way, was imprinted in his sunken eyes or drenched in his black hair. Stabbed through his heart.

Zayn's quiet, still, hands dead by his sides. He's looking at Niall and Niall only knows he's alive because he blinks every few seconds, the time lapsing longer with each blink, like he's trying to view it all for as long as possible. He's scared, afraid and nervous. He's barely breathing, rushes in a fat inhale when it seems like his lungs are protesting. Niall doesn't want him to be like this, but he doesn't want to help him, either.

"Come in," Niall nods, voices a bit too loud for the sharp silence. He moves away, presses his back to the door and moves a hand to press against his belly button out of habit, as if he's squeezing in to make more room for Zayn's passage.

It takes a moment for Zayn to respond. He blinks, minutely rears back before nodding quickly, eyes never leaving Niall.

"Yeah," he blurts, unsure of what else to say. "Yeah, okay. 'Course, um."

He's standing in front of Niall, looking down at him as he waits for the blond's next move. Niall looks away first, pushes off the door slightly to walk to the dining room, hears Zayn closing the door behind him.

Bosco comes running, nails clicking on the floor as he barks and barks and jumps and is so happy to see Zayn. Zayn squats, pets the frantic bug puppy and smiles softly.

"Hey there, Champ," he coos, scratching a black ear. Bosco jumps and spins halfway, turns to keep his eyes on Zayn, like he's trying to impress the man in front of him yet look at him at the same time. He's panting happily, short tail wagging furiously as tiny paws shift their stance. Zayn's always been his favorite, was the one who handpicked him, himself. And Niall knows Bosco's never been this happy since Zayn left.

It's so shitty.

It's quiet, uncomfortably quiet when they're sat down, Niall at the head of the table with Zayn to his left, Bosco camping at his feet. Zayn's still looking at him, gauging all of Niall's expressions that are pointed to the table in front of them. Niall doesn't know what'll happen if he allows himself to look at him.

He fucking cheated and Niall has to look at him.

"S'good to see you," Zayn softly says, hands on his lap. "Really, I. I missed you."

Niall hums, looks up and tries to smile. The thing is, he really does try. Despite everything, he still loves him, still loves Zayn so pathetically that he could cry if that didn't result in his whole body becoming uncooperative. And because he loves Zayn he tries to aim a genuine smile for him, to let him know he appreciates it. But Niall's mouth crumbles before he can control it, and he sees Zayn's face fall even more from it.

It's dead from there. Niall can't even hear his own lungs expanding, can't listen to the muscle in his chest beating. It's heavy with dead silence and Niall doesn't know how to do this. It's so hard, so damn difficult when he wants to make _Zayn_ feel better, yet make him feel even worse at the same time. He doesn't know how to balance it all, if there's such a thing at a time like this.

"I'm so sorry."

It's. It's the first time Niall's heard it. It's not one of the countless messages he's received and ignored. It's not from the limitless voicemails he's never even opened. It's breathed into the air between them. It's so real, so tangible as it mends through Niall's fingers and molds into the back of his eyelids, always there even if he tries to shut the world out.

"Niall," he starts, licks his lips and shudders a painful exhale. "Niall, I fucked up. I fucked up and no one knows that more than me, I. I don't know what to do. I'm just so fucking _sorry_. I've never been sorrier in my whole fucking life because you don't deserve this. I hurt you and I can't even live with myself knowing that."

Niall looks up, then. Focuses on Zayn and tries to drench in the words drowning them. Zayn doesn't look away, but he looks more uncomfortable.

"Please believe me. I _never_ wanted to hurt you. Fuck, I'm in love with you so much it literally hurts me right now. I'm so in love with you and you don't know how terrifying it is to think that you might not love me anymore." Zayn gasps, looks to the table and worries his eyebrows, pulls them down. "I fucked up. I fucked up so bad and I'm so scared. I miss you. I miss coming home and I miss my family. God, I miss you more than anything, Niall."

Niall doesn't, won't say anything. He has a lot to say, but nothing fits with this. Zayn's not done, if the jumping muscle in his jaw is anything to go by. Niall hates that he knows this.

"I wish you would say something. I have no right to ask for anything, but. But. I don't even know, Niall. All I know is that you haven't said anything yet and I. God, I fucking--"

"Why did you do it?" Niall shrugs, like he doesn't care. He does care, way more than he's proud of. "Why did you do it, then? If you're sorry."

Zayn opens his mouth, shuts it and looks away. This time Niall doesn't look away. He stares at Zayn, at his disheveled black hair and scruffy jawline, eyelashes flickering with each blink towards the table.

"Look," Niall sighs with a harsh rub over his face. "I don't have time to sit around," _I don't **want** to sit around_ , "I just want to be on talking terms with you, right now. That's it. I don't--" he shutters, shoulders rising with the labored inhale. Zayn looks up at him, then, eyes forlorn with a pouting mouth. It's not what he wanted to hear, but Niall can't--

He's looking at a cheater, a cheater he's in love with and he can't get that out of his head. He can't even think of getting back with Zayn yet, if the time ever wants to show itself. Niall doesn't know if he wants it to or not. (He actually hopes it doesn't, but his heart's being the stubborn bitch it's always been.)

"Ems' birthday is coming up," Niall whispers, brings his arms to wrap around himself. Zayn's pouting and Niall's really sad and Bosco's quiet by their feet and

Niall doesn't want it to be like this so, so desperately.

"I don't want to plan it without you. You're still her father and." There's a lock of hair falling over Zayn's forehead, making its presence noticed. Niall feels his fingers itch to put it back in place, to frame his husband's face adoringly.

His goddamn husband, what the fuck.

"We should discuss this before we move on to the next thing," Niall finishes.

There are fragments of Zayn's composure chipping, flecking everywhere. Niall hates that he knows this, hates that he knows the tremor in Zayn's eyebrows is from sheer disappointment, shame, guilt. His mouth is partly open, showing a streak of white teeth, and his hand on the table is forming a loose fist, fingertips not quite touching his palm. These are all quirks Niall's picked up on; he's able to decipher practically all of Zayn's resolves at this point. But Niall hates that he knows this, because if he didn't he wouldn't feel so burdened that he's the reason for the sad look on such a beautiful person.

But Zayn's the reason this is happening, he reminds himself.

"Okay," Zayn whispers, nodding with a firm jaw. "Yeah, okay. I. I'll start."

A nod fizzles out of Niall, reluctantly. His body's against him, he's sure of it. Nausea's sitting impatiently in his stomach, clawing at the walls inside him. The ache in his skull is persistently begging for his attention, grappling down his brain stem carelessly, making his eyes roll with the pain. And his head decides to nod without his consent, clipping off the last of his bearings.

Zayn looks at him, sympathy and heavy guilt smacking him deliberately. Niall knows that _he_ knows the toll this is taking on the blond. Zayn knows almost as much of Niall as Niall knows of him. _Almost_ as much.

He must've not known the turmoil his betrayal would cause because he wouldn't have done it, then.

"I love you," Zayn speaks mindlessly, forcefully. "I love you. And right now I know you don't believe me, but I do, Niall. This is so fucked up but I've never stopped loving you, I promise you that."

He can't look at him; Niall's so pathetic he can't even look at Zayn again.

"I just want you to know that. Every time I. I was with..." he shakes, rubs his face with both hands slowly, drops them to the table in finality, making sure he keeps his gaze on Niall from now on. "I thought of you every time I slept--"

"Every time?" Niall shoots, snapping his neck to look at Zayn in sparking-white clarity. "Every time what?"

Zayn's caught in headlights, a hand's squeezing his airways, and he's slowly drowning; all at the same time. The anxiety boiling in Niall is seeping out, smoke rising above them with static, churning the hairs on his arms. Bosco must even sense this, because he sits up immediately, moves away and steers clear of the dining room.

Niall can't see anything but Zayn, and Niall's splitting right down the middle.

"What the fuck you mean every time, Zayn?" he asks louder.

The man in front of Niall freezes all over again, witnesses the red clinging onto the blond. The man in front of him is stuck, thrown overboard, ran over. The man, the fucking excuse of man in front of Niall just made everything so much worse.

"You cheated more than once?" he stresses, just as loud. He's leaning over the table, head tilt in dangerous curiosity. "You really fucking--"

"I thought of you," Zayn interrupts, like a scared child trying to stop their mother from getting them into more trouble. "It was only three times and I swear, you were the only thing on my mind. I," he gapes, exhales painfully as the fidget in the corner of Niall's lip only continues. "Oh my God. Niall, I can't be any sorrier than I am. Believe me, _please_. We-- Fuck, I used a condom every time and--"

 _Every time_.

 _Every time_ , Niall thinks, can't grip the rest of Zayn's words. They're spilling out of his mouth, though, not stopping nor giving the slightest pause. It's only making everything a bigger mess. Every time. Three separate times. It's the first time Niall realizes just how big this all is, the first time he understands just how much he doesn't deserve this, just how much he truly loves Zayn. At the same time, Niall can't fully understand what's going on.

Three. Fucking. Times

"Niall? Niall, please just. Listen to me, I just want--"

"So you've managed," Niall speaks, emphasizing a group of words at a time, making sure Zayn hears him clearer than ever before, "You've managed to put on a condom, you had enough of a fucking _brain_ , to put on a condom, three different times, Zayn. _Three_ fucking times?" his voices raises, "And you didn't _stop_? All three times, are you seriously telling me this?"

"Niall," Zayn practically whimpers. His mouth is scrunched up in agony, like Niall's words are piercing every bare skin and hair follicle on his tan body. Oh, Zayn, you poor, poor fool. "Niall, baby, let me explain. You gotta let me finish, there's--"

"So there's more?" Niall perks up, seeming genuinely intrigued with the way his eyebrows raise to his hairline.

He's forgotten where he's at, he's forgotten the floor beneath his feet and the walls imprisoning him are still grounded while he's not, he's forgotten everything in the span of a few minutes. God, this is so much more than Niall can handle.

Zayn doesn't answer, doesn't blink, doesn't move. Niall doesn't ask again.

He gets up, rises from his seat without another word, stalks towards the kitchen. The thump of his feet echo through his ears, the ragged breaths he's releasing silence the man's steps behind him, the drill of his heart, his shitty heart, is deafening. Niall moves without command, but his body's not defying him for the first time all day.

"I need you to pick up the decorations," Niall starts, fumbles for the notepad he keeps on the island counter, shakingly writing a list on paper with the neighboring pen. "The theme's going to be Legend of Korra, don't know why but Avery's really into that lately so I need you to order decorations of that," he stammers, looking down at the paper in front of him.

"Niall," Zayn tries.

"I'll rent the place, already have one in mind so I'll book it for the Saturday before her birthday," he continues, ignoring the crestfallen man pleading in front of him. "Make sure the decorations have many pictures of Lin and Meelo. Those are her favorite characters from the show so don't just order the first one you find. I'm writing it so you won't forget."

"Niall!"

"Set everything up the night before, got it?" Niall quivers, haven't a clue what he's writing at this point. "I need to get there the day of to help with the catering. I need it to be set up already so I'll know where to put everything and--"

"Niall, no. No, don't do this. _Please_ ," he begs, gasps and harshly shakes. "Baby, I can't say it enough, I'm _sorry!_ I _love you!_ I wanna come back home so bad, please don't--"

"Shut the fuck up, Zayn," Niall trembles. A hand is over his eyes, obscuring the light on top of them. It's dark, with his eyes clenched shut. It's dark and he still feels alert of everything, feels Zayn shift closer to him.

With the other hand, Niall rips the note off and offers it to Zayn, outstretched hand connecting with a warm, broad chest that's suddenly closer than before. Niall opens his eyes, looks up, and Zayn

Zayn's almost crying, despair pooling at the corner of his eyes. He's so _hurt_ , so _scared_ , just so fucking _miserable_. The heart under Niall's hand is beating frantically, beating more frantic than its owner.

It's a living reminder of what's going on, makes everything so much more real.

"Niall. _Niall_."

Niall retracts his hand, lets the note go before Zayn instinctly moves to catch it, gaping down at it before looking at Niall again with how finished the blond seems with everything.

"Zayn, shut up and get out." The hand's back over his eyes, covering the wetness sticking his eyelashes together. "Three times, Zayn. Three times and you have the fucking balls to say you love me."

"I do. I _do_ , I fucking--"

Niall pushes him, keeps walking, walks away with his back towards Zayn. He repeats himself, loud enough that Zayn hears, that he shuts up in the middle of another excuse-filled plea.

Niall walks away from Zayn and he doesn't even feel proud of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my beta helped a lot with this chapter so creds to her xx

_Avery's shrill of a laugh brings Zayn's attention back to them, the way Niall's pushing her cheeks in to the point her eyes are slits, the meat of her face obscuring them._

_She laughs again, innocently laughs and Niall laughs also, leans over her and releases fistfuls of happiness against her round belly._

_Zayn continues watching them, watches his newborn baby girl kick her feet as she lays on her back between Niall's legs. Zayn mostly watches Niall, his newly dyed hair and softer arms due to the pregnancy he experienced just months ago. His hunched back as he continues to play with Avery's two-month-old face gently, when he gasps in mock surprise after she kicks him and pretends to scold her with a pale finger shaking over her face._

_Zayn's been permanently staying over Niall's for almost a year now, stopped making trips to his own home after most of his clothes started appearing in Niall's laundry. He sleeps with Niall and they always wear a condom during sex and they have a child of their own; a precious little girl neither never knew how important one could be to them. For them._

_The world, whoever's still interested, morelike, know they're together. They spotted the both of them leaving the hospital when they took Avery home and it was rising steam when they found out Zayn hasn't been to his own flat in months and it was confirmed after photos of the three on a date spread; blurry photos of Niall leaning in too close for_ _friendly in a booth and crystal-clear shots of Niall's one-month-old with Zayn's hair and thick eyelashes._

_Zayn's not a sucker, barely expresses the gushy side of him, the tiny part that's obnoxiously optimistic and overly upbeat. But it's really difficult remaining casually indifferent and unmoved when he honestly feels like he can't get any happier._

_And that's how he honestly feels right now; that's why he can't look away from Niall. Niall, who's currently laying back down on the bed to cushion their daughter on his chest. Niall, with his head against the headboard and hands smoothing down the tiny back placed over him. Niall, who's drastic and chaotic and unstable and so damn free._

_Niall, who's now a father and committed to his first longterm relationship with a longtime friend and is so damn happy with the events that unfolded in the past year._

_"Think she's falling asleep," Niall murmurs, severing Zayn's rapid thoughts. He's looking down at Avery, trying to see if her eyes are closed or opened but it's the wrong angle. "Z, is she falling asleep?"_

_"Yeah," Zayn answers, giving a chuckle with the way Avery's mouth is dropped open in slumber. "Fucking knackered."_

_"Language, Zaynie," Niall scolds, slowly scooting off the bed to put the baby in the basinet. "Your Baba curses too fucking much," he tells a sleeping infant, making sure she's on her back and rolling the blanket up to her hips._

_"Yo, fuck off," Zayn laughs while he firms his back to the headboard, pushing a pillow behind his lowerback._

_"There," Niall ignores him, standing up fully with hands on hips to see his completed work. "She's fed, she's changed. She'll be sleeping till the morning. And I take full credit."_

_"Okay, Niall," Zayn scoffs, looking for the novel he just had with him before a heavy weight's dropped onto his lap. He grunts, looks to find Niall smiling evilly at him. "What do_ _you want?"_

_"Is that how you talk to the bearer of your child?"_

_"That's how I talk to you, yeah," he playfully bites back. But his hands are ghosting over Niall's waist, curling under the hem of his loose shirt and splaying fingers over the skin._

_"That was rhetorical," he mutters, lips kissing Zayn's cheek before moving to his mouth._

_"Fancy word, that. Kinda proud of you," Zayn mumbles under his lips. He closes his eyes soon, can't help it, actually. Not with Niall's persistent mouth moving over his and pale fingernails softly scraping the back of his neck._

_This never changed for Niall, his persistence in everything he does. Whether it used to be a plea for second servings or discreetly bailing a scheduled interview or picking out the songs for their setlist. And Niall's unwavering charm always wins._

_A rustle erupts where the baby's perched, making Niall instantly turn to see her flinch before falling back to sleep. Zayn takes a moment to compose himself._

_"Wait, what. What're you doing?" he whines, grabbing the back of Niall's neck to kiss him again._

_"The baby," Niall answers with a quick kiss on Zayn's lips. "Thought she woke up or summat."_

_The moment's gone, Zayn can instantly tell before Niall even opens his mouth._

_"She's just so cute," he coos, abandoning Zayn's welcoming lap to stand over the basinet. "I just wanna wake her up to see her smile and then put her back to sleep."_

_"You can put me to sleep," Zayn suggests, smirk on display. "You know, like. Get my motor going until--"_

_"I know what you mean," Niall sticks his tongue out, coming back to sit between Avery and Zayn. "I just really like her. Sounds weird, but--"_

_"I'd **hope** you'd like our daughter!" Zayn laughs._

_"No, you know what I mean" Niall chuckles also. "Like. I'm in love with her, but not because s'an obligation. More," he throws a hand in the air, dismissing his explanation. "I'm just happy she's here. She's only two months and I already lost track of how many times I zoned out just watching her sleep."_

_"Creep." Niall flips him off, falls back till his head rests on Zayn's thigh. "Creepy Daddy."_

_"Fuck off." There's no bite to it, so they ease into a soothing silence. Zayn likes this, the fact there's no tension because their mouths are sealed. Zayn's always liked this, even before he knew just how important it would be._

_"I like her, too," he gives. Niall stirs when he sits up, smiling at Zayn appreciatively. "I get what you mean, with being happy she's here."_

_Zayn gets a shove to the rib in return, but it's tender and Niall's still smiling._

_"Being honest for a moment," Zayn licks his lips with a smirk, preparing for the assault, "I was so fucking scared for the baby."_

_"Why?" Niall pouts. He slumps and curves around Zayn, as if the closer proximity will reel Zayn's thoughts toward something better. He's not far off._

_"'Cause you're. Babe, you're reckless as shit." He does laugh to soften his words since Niall's face falls unpleasantly. "Was fucking nervous you were gonna fall on your stomach and."_

_"That's horrible of you," he accuses, lightly punching Zayn in his chest. "I'm not that uncoordinated, bro."_

_"First, don't call me bro ever again. And second, mhm okay, sure," Zayn raises his eyebrows, rolling his eyes in the process. He only receives a rougher punch. "Ow! Alright, I get it, so horrible of me. I was kidding."_

_"No, you weren't," Niall mumbles. He buries his face in the side of Zayn's chest, presses there until he can't anymore and sags. "Hate you."_

_"Feeling's mutual, babe."_

_There's movement a few minutes later, Zayn realizing with a slow blink to open his eyes. He's kind of asleep and Niall's sitting over him, then; leg on each side and face hovering over his._

_Suddenly, he's seventeen. He's seventeen with baby skin and Niall's front teeth are crooked, badly-done hair dye shagging the split ends over his face._

_He's never felt so entranced._

_"Hmm?" he asks to break the silence, spinning back to the moment in front of him. Niall's silent, trailing a hand up Zayn's chest to hold one side of his face, taking the man's pause slowly before leaning in to kiss him._

_Zayn doesn't ask, will never ask when Niall kisses him._

_But minutes later when he's wired with energy, he's tempted to ask why Niall wants to say shit right before they're close to being naked._

_"Was thinking," he starts, curving a thumb over Zayn's cheekbone as he changes the angle of their locked lips, "When're you gonna officially move in?"_

_It takes a few more sloppy pecks for Zayn to answer, slightly reluctantly with a vague whimper when he pulls away just enough to be heard._

_"Thought," he huffs, open mouth being explored by Niall's relaxed tongue. "Shit," Zayn hisses, sliding down the bed to lay flat on it with hands lowering to Niall's ass. "Thought I was already living here."_

_"But you're not," Niall pouts, moving away to sit up. He's sitting right over Zayn's crotch and he's so in control of himself; Zayn isn't. "Your shit is still at your place. Just your kit is here."_

_Zayn groans, rubs his face in despair because he was close to starting passionate foreplay but this is going to be a long talk. "Okay, babe, you want me to officially move in with you?"_

_"Only if you want," Niall says, tracing the quote on Zayn's hip. "Your daughter's here, so. Only if you want."_

_"You're here, too," Zayn informs, like that's the valid point of all this. "I do want. But you're here, too."_

_Niall smiles, quirks the smile that threw Zayn overboard the night he internally broke down and wondered if he fancied his band mate; his current child bearer. So much more than all of that._

_"Would you marry me?" Zayn genuinely asks, looks up at Niall with hooded eyes. He didn't think of the question before saying it. But now that it's in the air, he doesn't shake with nerves. He doesn't fidget or stress over Niall's response. He just, waits._

_Everything's just so easy with Niall. Everything's always been so unwinded with the blonde man on top of him. Even now with Niall frozen and gaping his mouth, it's not difficult; not going to be difficult because if Niall denies, it might breach a sore in Zayn, but then Niall will kiss him lazily and they'll be back where they are, where they've always been._

_So Zayn just waits._

_"Are. Are you asking me to marry you, right now?"_

_"No," Zayn gently laughs, attempting sitting up with Niall still on his lap. He gets as far as kneeling back on his elbows. "I'm asking if I **was** to ask you, would you say yeah?"_

_"Are you going to eventually ask me?"_

_"If you say yeah," Zayn smirks, bites back a chuckle from Niall's shocked expression._

_"We've talked 'bout this before."_

_"Yeah," Zayn agrees with a slow nod. "But that was before the baby was here."_

_"I don't--" he swallows, laughing with low eyelids. He's so gorgeous. "Dunno, Z. We just had a baby. Wasn't really expecting that and. Marriage is a big thing."_

_He's gorgeous, and also serious; talking practical for once. Maybe not everything's easy._

_"Well," Zayn begins, gnawing on his lip with his eyes trained on Niall. "Yeah, it is a big thing, but. I wouldn't mind marrying you, Niall. I think we'll make it work."_

_"You wouldn't mind?" Niall repeats after him, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "You **think** we'll make it work?"_

_"You know what I mean."_

_"Z, you were engaged before. And you use to always say you **knew** that was the right thing," he murmurs cautiously, like he knows it's all about to rise unpleasantly. He rubs a thumb over Zayn's chin, pushes in till his bottom lip juts out. "Even after we said it was kinda early, to take time and think before you go along with it, you just. Just did it. Don't think I wanna repeat of that, Zayn."_

_"There won't be a repeat. I actually really want this."_

_"You really wanna marry me?" Niall grins, wiggling his eyebrows jokingly._

_Zayn just continues gazing at him. "I really want you, all of this. I want Avery, want her to grow up with married parents. I want to marry you since I honestly think we can do it. More than anything I love you. I love you more than enough to marry you. And the more I think of it the more I want it, honestly."_

_Niall's smiling, a grand smile on his face filled with veiled embarrassment._

_"Wouldn't mind marrying my best friend," Zayn adds, giving a calm grin because Niall's still speechless._

_"That was. . . Can't really say no now, can I," Niall responds, rushes a shaking laugh. He's red, drenched in such a beautiful color._

_"You're mine," Zayn teases, impersonating a Count accent. "I vant to marry you forever, ah ah ah."_

_"Such a dork," Niall shakes his head, hitting the back of his hand against Zayn's chest with a chuckle. "I'm gonna marry a goddamn dork, I tell you."_

_Zayn's face crumbles into a smile, an unforgiving tongue pressed behind his teeth._

_"Yeah," Niall murmurs, fixing the collar of Zayn's shirt. "Think we'll work, you know."_

_"You **think**?"_

_He receives the bubbly laugh he was aiming for._

 

_It's a month later, neither's mentioned it to anyone. They'd answer unclearly when asked by friends or shrug while their mothers sigh in disappointment._

_It's a month later, and Niall sits down at the breakfast table with a sleeping baby in his arms, ready to wake her for her morning meal while Zayn props the made-bottle in front of him._

_It's a moment after that, as Niall reaches for the baby bottle to shake the ingredients together, that he finds it empty. Empty but a rattling starting to settle at the bottom of it, a ring laying down and gleaming with the early window light._

{~*~}

Zayn's going to lose him.

And that takes up more anxiety in him than should be anatomically possible.

He's back to picking up Avery at Louis and Harry's. And it's strictly there because Liam can't gather the effort to speak to him anymore. He picks up his daughter with two men looking at him pitifully, one drenched completely with pity while the other harbors a malice behind blue eyes. He's losing his best mates and is going to lose the person who means the most to him. All because he was depressed enough to let a female get inside his skin.

Avery's so precious, so cherubic with simple pouts and innocent blue eyes and she's the only reason Zayn hasn't completely lost his mind.

She's so intrigued by everything, wants to go through all the rooms of Zayn's flat he never managed to sell years ago.

She flops around and runs with quick feet, stops by every door and turns to look up at Zayn, waiting for her Baba to explain this room and why the sheets are green when the others were blue and is this the room you sleep in and why isn't Daddy here.

He answers most of them.

They wake up and Zayn makes thick pancakes, brings out the newly bought blueberry syrup since it's his daughter's favorite. It's disgusting and he internally cringes when she goes to kiss or hug him, but it's worth it. They eat in silence because they don't have to talk to fill anything. They can eat quietly and Avery hums and sneaks bites off Zayn's plate when he pretends to not notice and she laughs immorally; the skin of her nose scrunching up.

(Zayn always strives to make her thoroughly laugh, to the point her eyes are closed and her mouth is gaped open with glee. Whenever she laughs this way, a temporary bump appears between her dark eyebrows.)

After they eat breakfast and the dishes are neatly stacked in the sink, he brings out her little toy chest, a tiny compartment that hosts minor pleasantries for her to dote over.

There's a few Barbies she dismisses when she can't do anything with them but change their outfits. A rubix cube her little brain fights to solve, though she only gets so far as lining a solid color of just three blocks a time. Other miniscule things he knows she'll like until she abandons them all for the erasable markers.

Mostly she'll color in the coloring books, the corner of her tongue peeking out as she sits on her Baba's lap, sheets of outlined characters in front of them. Sometimes he brings white blank paper for both of them, draws pictures of his own on one as she releases iridescent havoc on the remaining pieces.

But sometimes, when telly's boring and he really just wants to focus on her, she shades the ink on his skin, tries to stay inside the lines and leaves a bigger mess than what's already there.

She asks questions all throughout. She wants to know who's the space monkey, and Zayn playfully answers his imaginary friend. She points at the robot and he can only say that's your Daddy's favorite tattoo of mine. She likes the girl because she's pretty and Zayn tells her who she is, lets her know she's still someone special in her Baba's life but no one's as important to him as Daddy and their little princess.

Her favorite tattoo is the Henna-inspired flower on his wrist. And she always makes sure to paint everything. Paints roughly and is always so fucking happy with the result. Sometimes Zayn sketches the same design on paper, watches her create the exact same colorful design on something more permanent. And when she's done he grabs her little left hand with his struggling right and prints her name at the bottom with the date; hangs it up in his basement artroom next to her other past portraits.

There are times, when he's tired enough to not care or is trying to stay absorbed in a show, she moves to his left, sits there and quietly traces a deep orange into the tiger on his shoulder. And by the time he notices it's too late and he groans because it's fucking shit cleaning the ink off with that horrid angle and Avery knows that. She knows that. But when he scolds her she only laughs, keeps a hand pressed to her mouth and smiles like she didn't just deliberately disobey him.

She can be so evil too, so damn sneaky and Zayn's in love with her and all of it.

She's so much like her Daddy; so much like Niall Zayn doesn't know how to handle it.

Despite an obvious recluse, he does wish to take her out sometimes. Zayn wouldn't mind spending a chilly afternoon on a bench if it meant his little girl could interact with tiny strangers her own age at a playground, wouldn't mind her creating fleeting companions or foes for the time being. There's a neat pet store down the street he'd like to visit with her; watch her gaze at furry creatures and pick out a new collar for Bosco since his old one's fraying around the strap. He wants to take her to Burger King just for a day and let her chew on salty fries if it meant she can get some of the fresh air his mum always wanted him to breathe when he was younger.

But he can't. Because he'll be Zayn Malik, not Baba. And his daughter doesn't deserve a mob invading her privacy just for a clear photo of Zayn, just for the flimsiest answer of what's going to happen with you and Niall since you cheated.

Zayn cheated and everyone around him is affected by it. Especially the one who means the most to him; who can't even look Zayn in the eye.

So he just, stays inside.

Avery loves pasta, adores mac n' cheese more than her Baba and Daddy (her words), can live off the cheesy dish if she had to. So Zayn cooks a hearty size of many cheeses, boils the pasta and doesn't bite back the chuckle as he sees her astonished face when she realizes what he's making. Other times he bakes homemade pizza, lets her pick the toppings and doesn't get angry when they finish with tomato sauce dripping from the ceiling and flour itching their eyes.

He gives her a long bath, lets her play with the bubbles and asks her what she wants to do the next day; she always answers the same, stay home. (It's always Niall making the three of them go out, picking out their outfits so they match and taking mediocre pictures on his phone in front of the mirror by the front door. It's all so mediocre and Zayn wants it now more than anything.) So he nods his head while washing her hair, running warm water down her neck to get rid of clinging suds and lets her spend a few more minutes trying to sink the rubber toy boats in the tub.

Afterwards, when night's close to making her appearance, they just lay down. Zayn pops in a movie he wants her to get into, only for the plan to fail fifteen minutes later when she's yawning. Her tiny hand covering her mouth before flopping against her forehead.

"Tired?" Zayn asks her, pushing bangs out of her eyes. They're growing out again. He'll need to cut them before her birthday. They're up to her button nose at the moment and Zayn contemplates cutting them himself while Niall sits her--

Well. If anything, he'll just trim the ends tomorrow.

Avery nods, blinks and yawns again, with her mouth closed this time. Her nostrils flare with the act and Zayn melts; turns into the heaviest mess where he's perched.

"Yeah," she mumbles, dopily feeling for the blanket placed somewhere near the foot of the bed. She's struggling, mindlessly groaning by the time she finds it and falling back on her pillow, bringing the comforter to her legs before giving up with exhaustion.

Zayn wishes Niall were there, or maybe they were just all home. Niall would've laughed so loudly at a time like this, would've pointed at Zayn and said something teasing like she is her Baba's daughter.

"Babe, you gotta brush your teeth," he laughs through his nose. She only tells her Baba good night before dismissing him completely. So Zayn picks her up and by the time she's standing on the toilet seat, she's more awake and grumbling and trying to flick tangled strands off her face. He brushes her teeth for her, knows she'll do a half-assed job or nothing at all. So he holds her chin and makes dramatic gestures with his mouth and jaw to appease her and is rewarded with her foamy mouth laughing into his face, a horrible result.

"Gross, Ave," he complains, wiping his cheek when he pulls away. She only laughs, this little brat only laughs and rinses off her mouth before sauntering towards the bedroom.

"Baba, why aren't you home with Daddy and me anymore?" is what she asks when Zayn comes in after her, taking it upon herself to turn of the television since Zayn wasn't watching it; no, not at all.

"Uh," he frets. One of her shirts is folded inside out on the floor, thrown carelessly by the bookshelf. He walks over to it, picks it up by its yellow floral collar and reigns in this mundane action to keep him aware. "What was that, sweetie?"

"You're never home," she yawns, burrowing more into her blanket, her chubby face the only skin peeking out. "I don't see you with Daddy anymore."

Well, Zayn thinks. He didn't do his research yet on how to break it to your four-year-old daughter that her parents aren't together.

"Well," he says aloud, internally cursing there's nothing else to clean as he inspects the room. "Well, your Baba and Daddy are. . ." Fuck, he doesn't know what to say.

"Baba used to live here, babe. Before me and Daddy were together, isn't this place neat?"

"Yeah," she says, poking a finger by her face to point towards the television. "Your telly's cool, makes noises near my head."

"That's surround sound, Ave," he smirks.

So she's forgotten it, what he planned. Maybe it's for the moment because she's really smart for her age or probably she'll ask again tomorrow but Zayn will not and cannot say the truth. And that was one of the only things he and Niall had a serious problem with her upbringing, what to keep away and just how much they admitted to her. But he can't. Right now, he won't.

She yawns again, closes blue eyes for it.

"Baba, do you know a cool nighttime story?"

"Like a bedtime story?"

"Yeah. A cool bedtime story. Daddy's suck."

"Daddy tells you bedtime stories?" Zayn can't help but smile. There are figmented knives behind the smile, sharp objects slicing through the enamel and stabbing his gums. His tongue is chopped off, there are no gills on the roof of his mouth and he's just a bloody mess. Such a fucking mess.

Everything hurts.

"Yeah, but it's the same one every night," she pouts. "There's a little girl who goes to sleep, but then he says he can't tell me the rest until the morning but I always forget."

Zayn actually laughs aloud, slumps onto the mattress next to her and guffaws into his pillow because that's definitely something Niall would do. And for this moment it's all a little less painful.

"But that's a really cool story, I want to find out what's next now," he teases. She only glowers, deadpans that she wants a cool story.

She has this funny accent, this soft curve in her tone when expressing vowels and this rough punch at the beginning of every word. Her little tongue holds her Baba and Daddy evenly and Zayn thought that was impossible.

It's incredible, and so damn miserable, the fact he's not with Niall but spent the whole day with him at the same time, it seems.

"Okay, a story," he drawls, leaning on an elbow next to her. "So. There was. . . There was a star. A quiet star, and this star was lost in her own universe, she thought she was happy when she actually wasn't."

"How did she think she was happy but she wasn't?" she asks, completely intrigued with a tight grip around her red tattered _Blinky_.

"Because she met another star. And this was a happy star, was _the_ happy star," he excites. "And the happy star, she was really bright, just full of light everywhere she went. And the quiet star followed her. And the happy star liked the quiet star, too. So they traveled over planets, soared through belts and ventured around black holes never explored before. But one day--"

"One day, what?" she hushly interrupts, blue eyes wide with curiosity.

"One day," he tenderly smiles at her, "the quiet star felt lost again, but the happy star was too busy passing light everywhere that she didn't notice. She didn't notice her friend needing her."

Avery's falling asleep, alert behind unfocused eyes as she tries to hold on to the words.

"And when the quiet star realized just how lost she was, she left. She left and hurt the happy star," he tells. "Then the happy star wasn't so happy anymore, and there was no more light."

"Why. . . why did the quiet star hurt her?"

"Because she thought the happy star forgot her, and she was really sad about it. After she found out how sad the happy star was she tried looking for her, but the happy star didn't want to be found."

"That's so sad," she frowns, sinking more into the cushion by the minute. "What happens next?"

Zayn didn't have anything left. "Tell you what, if you go to sleep now, I'll tell you the rest over breakfast. I'll make you eggy bread, is that okay?"

"Yes, Baba," she sighs. "I love you. Good night."

"I love you more, Ave."

She's a deep sleeper, dreaming with fidgeting movements fifteen minutes later.

Zayn's still awake. He doesn't think that'll change in the next hour, either.

So with a pillow behind his head and an endless tiled ceiling ahead, he lays there. Zayn stays on his back and leaves his hands over his stomach and can't fucking function.

It's been a few months since he's been kicked out; now he sleeps in a barren room that once hosted so many good nights but can't seem to comfort him so late in the night, so late in his body.

Avery's softly snoring, wisps of straight black hair curled around her face and fanning the pillow. She hugs her plush doll to herself and flinches every few minutes and Zayn feels so united and drastically separated at the same time.

He lays there and the lamp on his desk is still on, creating a mosaic of colors across the ceiling from its hat and it's too bright.

Zayn looks at his hands randomly, ten short limbs extending from him and all he sees is where they touched her, where the skin of his palms channeled with someone that wasn't Niall; his fucking baby.

He shudders, squeezes his eyes shut. Yet behind stressed eyelids images of tan hands removing a condom haunts him. A condom filled with her, dripping with _her_. Not _Niall_. His fucking _love_ and he's caused this.

If he lets his thoughts wander freely, they'll verge towards Niall. They always do. But he can't think of him, can't when it's so late in the evening and Zayn only pictures him alone at home. And Niall doesn't do alone, he doesn't do loneliness and Zayn has a reliable hunch his baby's so detached right now, at the moment, wherever he may be and whatever he may be doing.

If he lets his thoughts wander freely, they'll verge towards Niall. So he thinks of his daughter instead, because she's the best thing out of all this mess he's caused. He knows he's always loved her, fucking adored her before he was even confirmed to be the father.

It was the middle of March, awaiting Dan's arrival when Liam texted him.

_Nialls pregnant_

That was it. And he instantly felt this warm convulsion dripping inside of him pleasantly. He thought, _my nephew_ , a little boy with Niall's crooked teeth. He thought, _the cutest little girl_ , his potential niece with pale skin and a freckled frame. And then.

He froze. He, fucking, shook. He fucking froze and shook with tremors because. No. No no no. Not his baby. Not his Niall. Not-- Not what's _his_. And Niall is _his_. No one fucking--

Someone fucking touched him. They, they put their _hands_ on his baby and Zayn. _Zayn_ touches him. Zayn took his virginity all those years ago and Zayn is the only one who ever fucked-- made love to Niall because only _he_ knows Niall and

No no no, fucking Christ no! Not someone else's. Niall can't be pregnant with someone else's child that wasn't; had no part of Zayn. No, Zayn thought.

No, he almost whimpered. Not his fucking baby. Not--

_Bro u there? ?_

_Fuckin hell z, nialls preg! !!_

_Nialls pregnant and hes alone_ , Liam texted after that. And Zayn

Just

Knew. He--

"Thought," for a better word. He only thought. Because if he pictured a boy with tan skin and crooked teeth or a girl with hazel eyes and pale skin, it just. He wouldn't be around if he imprinted this image only for the result to be the total opposite. Only to find another man, someone _not him_ , leaning over Niall with a baby in between them, _their_ baby. Not Zayn's and

And Zayn's thinking of Niall again, drowning in this guilty sin and choking on everything he loves, everything he lost and is going to lose.

Zayn's going to lose him. He's going to lose Niall when he feels like he barely got enough of his taste, barely felt comfortable and settled in his presence to imagine him just always being there. There's still the adrenaline in him that wants Niall to keep him, this charge that drives him to keep the blond interested because fuck everyone but he's the best damn thing to happen to Zayn and he's not going to take advantage of that.

Only, he did. Only, he fucked up beyond protocol and hurt the love of his life in the process.

Zayn can't sleep. And he'll be damned if he allows his body to receive this mundane pleasure.

So with an excuse of strength he rises, gives his daughter a kiss before leaving the room and everything stops that silent instant.

She smells like home. Like multiple scented candles and constant cooking and apple cinnamon air freshener. Which is _absurd_.

Avery purposely drenched herself in Zayn's cologne just after one in the afternoon, when she got bored of her coloring utensils and her Baba was putting the dried dishes away. She spritzed it over her face and down her pajamas and all in her hair, so potent Zayn pulled back the moment she came back. She bathed with his shower gel, refused the _Hello Kitty_ cotton-candy scented bottle for his plastic one of Suave Men and used more than half of it, utilized another handful for a mightier blanket of bubbles.

Underneath it all, she reeks of home and familiarity. She smells like Niall.

And why did he cause this? Why did he sleep with her? With _her_? The fucking whore he knew she was from the beginning. The hypocrite who faked being a fan just to fuck him and he allowed it.

Zayn's walking down the hallway, when suddenly he grips the wall for a moment when this drastic thought disables him. A sound breaks from his throat, a pathetic noise muffled when a hand clasps over his mouth. Only, it's in vain when he drowns the narrow space he's venturing through with cries.

He's an animal; caught under a sharp net with hooks stabbing his skin. He's crying, despair drowning the air suffocating him. He's suffocating himself, can't pause a shuddering sob to drag fresh breath through his lungs. He's hurting himself, shaking and only causing the hooks to sink deeper, only causing another wail to slip through his fingertips.

He's an animal. A real big disgrace and the fucking worst shit in the world. God, he's the worst thing to ever walk the earth. And nothing can convince him otherwise. No one can say a thing to him to divert his beliefs; and he cries even more because there isn't anyone attempting switching his thoughts. He's alone, he's a sick, disgusting animal who actually managed to hurt Niall.

Why, oh why, did he hurt Niall? Above all, _how_ did he have it in him to hurt him? How the fuck did he had it in his useless body to hurt the most precious thing in his life, the most loved person in everyone's life? And Zayn honestly thinks everyone, everyone who's ever happened to cross Niall's path or heard him sing or listened to him talk about someone he admired has put Niall on the high pedestal because he's such an important person. He's so good at everything he does and Zayn might've not been the only one to know this but he was the only one who appreciated it the most and he cheated on him in return.

Out of everything, every fucking thing, he cheated on Niall in return.

He thinks of Niall, reluctantly. Because he knows trying to path a different trail of thought will only end in him hitting rock bottom, finding a dead end overflowing with Niall and his laugh and his stern touches that drive Zayn crazy and the way he loves like he's never been hurt and the way Zayn was the one to hurt him, out of everybody. Niall put his trust in Zayn, willingly handed him his trust wrapped in pristine glass and Zayn shattered it, stepped on it, melted the remaining pieces.

Niall fucked up Zayn's life during the seventh week they sat on the steps, didn't refrain from spewing his grand persona on the Bradford boy and knocking his inner core off balance, creating a really pretty chaos to form in his head.

Zayn absolutely destroyed Niall three years into their marriage, wreaked an ugly, dark creature to kill him and didn't hesitate to make sure the remaining pieces were indecipherable.

 _Avery's asleep_ , he texts. _Gave her a bath and fed her cream of wheat before bed. She's fine_.

He doesn't expect a text, so whatever. But he's human, he's desperate. He's so goddamn desperate and hurt.

_I'm sorry. I am so sorry. Just please don't shut me out. I did what I did, but I've never lied to you. And that's the only thing I can say that doesn't fill me with guilt. I love you more than anything and I'm sorry._

Nothing.

And, okay. That's fine. That's all right. He doesn't expect anything else. But. But still. . .

There's never been a day Niall ignored his text. Never. Back when they were on break, and Zayn's phone would stay untouched wherever he thrown it after entering the house; back when he didn't check it for days and found it filled to the brim with texts and skype messages and kiks, still. Still when he replied to Niall with a casual apology and a smiley, his blonde baby only sent _haha! get outa the house zaynie, the weathers gud!_ or _:))))) bought the latest gta, come ovr? ?_

That's it. It was easy. It was so fucking easy and now it's not. Now Niall can't even smile at him and that. That's not fine. Nothing's fine and Zayn takes a moment to realize just how fine nothing is.

_I love you, good night. Please get rest._

Zayn hurt Niall, plain and simple. He fucking hurt him. There's nothing left to say; nothing left of them.

That's not fine at all.

 

Zayn wakes up, he always wakes up, unfortunately. And Avery joins him not long after that.

She yawns and pouts. Pouts a lot when she just wakes up because she's still tired and her Daddy's not there with them.

Times like this remind Zayn that he can't be weak if he wanted. He's unable to break down and cry in the middle of a meal if he wanted. He isn't capable of wallowing on a sofa without worrying of consuming nutrition. He has a daughter to look after, an innocent little girl who looks up to him more than she realizes, herself.

So he'll swallow the emotions, tense his jaw to refrain crumbling in front of her and makes sure there's something she's able to help him with to keep her busy. And she forgets while trying to whisk waffle mix and ginger powder together, little dust particles producing sneezes from her tiny body.

She doesn't bring up the story, let it go it through her journey behind closed eyelids.

Zayn picks it up, tucks it away because it hurts. It hurts and everything hurts. Adding just a little slice of more pain wouldn't matter at this point.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm posting this early bc my wifi's been glitchy lately and idk when it'll shut off again. so to be on the safe side, here is chapter 5.  
> has anyone signed up for the new year's ziall fic exchange?? i did :D this is the first one i've ever applied for so i hope it goes well.  
> did you hear the album yet?? :)))))))) i've actually just downloaded them. i'm late due to the faulty wifi connection but so far it's killing me. i'm death.  
> hopefully i'll have another chapter before the end of this weekend. hope you like this one! xx

“Daddy,” Avery whines, unimpressed. “I wanna stay home, I don’t wanna go.”

“I know, _but_ ,” Niall points, holding up a finger as if this should all be taken importantly. “I need your help picking out my outfit, right?” he lies, smiling bigger to get her interested.

She gasps, pink mouth gaping joyfully as blue eyes look up at Niall hilariously.

“Me, you, and Baba are going somewhere?” she asks, mouth curving with clueless happiness.

Niall’s smile falls, the strings holding up the expression snapping roughly. Avery’s still smiling, and Niall loves this, is so in love with this. She’s so serious, but he cherishes these moments where she mindlessly acts her age, where her innocence shows drastically and her timidless euphoric persona reels everyone around her into the effect as well. She’s glowing, blushing with the assumption that her little family are going on a date when they’re the farthest from it.

He hasn’t spoken to Zayn since that horrible day. And remnants of it are still permeating the whole house. Niall’s home is infected, blemished and so ugly to him.

Niall wakes up and it’s still there, _very_ there, pestering for his undivided attention. He makes breakfast, gives Bosco scraps of bacon and toast as Avery sits on the counter, and he remembers; just on that counter, just right there he--

Three, fucking, times.

It soaks him while he showers and pounds his body when he’s driving Avery to the local zoo and grips him when he goes to bed. Three times. Three seperate times he wasn’t enough to stop Zayn. He wasn’t enough for Zayn to at least confess, admit his faulty doings. He found out on television, with every important person to him witnessing it all, witnessing it with him. He’s so humiliated, so embarrassed he could give every person in the world a brickful of his shame and _still_ be full to the brim with it.

Three times, Zayn used three different condoms with a woman, _female_ , something Niall will never be. It makes him shake, vibrate with nerves that shouldn’t be felt when he’s married happily with a beautiful daughter and a trustworthy bank account with friends and family and _everything_. Everything Niall ever wanted and he’s never felt so worthless. Zayn used condoms, condoms he bought with Niall, _for_ Niall, for someone _else_.

Niall really shouldn’t feel so depressed on his daughter’s surprise birthday party, but the number one person in his life betrayed him and he still can’t believe it.

“No, Ems,” he answers, one side of his mouth trembling to form a nonchalant smirk. “No, princess. Daddy and Baba and you aren’t going somewhere.”

“Aw,” she pouts, slumps forward with black bangs curving over her brow. She has Zayn’s eyebrows, dark and unkempt and so damn pretty. She’s so pretty and Niall loves her so much, but she reminds him of someone he doesn’t want to think of.

Niall remembers when he was pregnant, when he was oblivious of the influence his child was going to have on him. There was a night, a sad night after he kicked Zayn out during their dubious unlabeled days, and Niall prayed to any deity that his child wouldn’t look like Zayn. And well, besides her captivating blue eyes and dented chin, she’s completely Zayn. She’s so much _like_ him, it used to make Niall laugh. Now he just tries not to let her know how much this is all hurting him.

“Why don’t you go with Aunt Safaa?” she grumbles. “Or go with Uncle Greg, he’s a boy, too!”

“Hmm,” Niall rubs his chin. “Okay,” he shrugs, grinning when she smiles again. “I’ll talk to Uncle Greg, and he can bring Theo so you can play with him,” he acts. “You wanna be with your cousin?”

“Theo only talks about football people,” she continues, grumbling even more. “Football is boring.”

“Hey!” he playfully scolds. “That’s blasphemy in this house, young lady. Take that back and apologize! Don’t you know who your Dad is?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she sighs, “I know you like football.” She straightens her back, looks up at Niall with a mature smirk on her face, hands behind her back. “Baba even told me you liked one of them that had your same name.”

“Is that so?” he asks, looking away before she catches the uncontrollable frown he’s wearing. It was a common thing between him and Zayn, whenever Neymar showed up onscreen or his name flashed on Niall’s phone the very few times he texted, that Zayn used to smirk at him, muttered “your other husband” under his breath just loud enough that Niall groaned. It _wasn’t_ true, and Zayn was only always playing, would put his foot down if he thought anything was serious, so Niall only shook his head in humor or rolled his eyes with amusement, resulting in Zayn kissing his cheek, the bump between his brows with a chuckle.

It was a common thing between them.

Avery doesn’t respond, grows bored with the conversation and trots towards the door, struggles to put her short arms through her tiny coat sleeves.

Niall’s in love with his daughter and that’s the only thing that matters to him. It’s her day, and he has to constantly remind himself that.

 

“Surprise!” everyone cheers the moment Niall enters the place, Ave in front of him with small hands pushing the door open.

There are blue decorations everywhere, the four elements’ emblems strewn all over the place. There are even cosplayers Niall doesn’t remember seeing just hours prior when Liam watched Avery. Everything’s grand and colorful and it’s all reflected in his daughter’s eyes, how wide they are as her mouth drops in astonishment.

Music is playing in the background, a kids-friendly playlist Niall doesn’t even have to guess who’s its owner. The guests’ arms are still in the air in glee while little laughs erupt from different corners towards Little Ems’ shock as she looks up to Niall.

“This is for me?” she puffs, tan arms dropped by her sides. Niall ruffles her hair, curves a thumb down one of her cheeks as he smiles in humbled satisfaction.

“Of course, sweetie. This is _all_ for you,” he exaggerates, gesturing with arms at the vast children activities set up around them. He bends down, pushes her hair off her forehead to kiss the soft skin. “Happy birthday, Ems. Go have fun.”

She squeals, uncharacteristically peeps as her tiny body tenses up with excitement. Niall’s too busy entranced with her reactions to view Zayn coming towards them.

“Happy birthday, baby girl!” he exclaims, rushing over to swoop her up, resting her weight on his hip as she clings to him and sends bubbly giggles in his neck.

It’s really pretty, the scene. It makes Niall pause his breathing, makes his mouth form an unintended smile when Zayn leans his head in, forehead touching Avery’s as her small chubby hands frame his scruffy jaw.

“Baba! You knew about this, too?” she accuses, bringing a small hand over her mouth as she takes in her surroundings, spots Scarlett and Gemma’s son jumping in the rainbow balls pit.

“Yeah,” he smirks, putting a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, Ave. Baba knew about all of this. Were you surprised?” She nods roughly, white teeth over her bottom lip. Zayn smiles at her, bumps his forehead to hers once more before turning to Niall.

Niall isn’t smiling, stuck in the moment before he can wire his body to react appropriately. His mouth curves, a lopsided grin formed crookedly on his face as he tries to school it into something nice, something his daughter won’t question. She’s so young, really young but he wouldn’t put it past her that she’ll pick up on the tension settling.

She’s so young and her family is so broken.

“Hey,” Zayn breathes, mouth fallen as he peers at Niall. His throat jumps with a thick swallow, and putting hesitance behind him, he leans in, puts an arm around Niall’s shoulder into a hug, kisses his pale cheek casually. It’s anything but, and Niall can’t honestly recall the last time they shared such a tender moment. But his initial reaction is to hug Zayn as well, pale arm bracketing his hus-- husband’s thin waist as their daughter’s squished between them.

“Hi,” Niall exhales, chin hooked over Zayn’s shoulder. He’s sure they’re being eyed, someone’s ( _someones_ ) looking at them, being nosey and already channeling this moment into their head to share with the next person. And that makes him step back quickly, aiming attempted nonchalance as his husband’s face falls with the distance. Zayn’s his damn husband, and before that took a little getting used to. Now he can’t come to grips with the fact he cheated.

“Can I play with Scar and Hunter, please?” Avery asks, tapping Zayn’s cheek to get his attention. His eyes move from Niall, and he nods to her, smirks before placing her on her feet where she idly walks towards the riotous kids.

“Looks nice,” Niall comments after the silence expands for too long. Zayn doesn’t respond, and Niall’s suddenly uncomfortable, downright uncomfortable in Zayn’s presence for the first time in, maybe forever. There was never really a rough patch in their relationship, back when they were mere strangers on the show, even before the band. Niall remembers he used to wave animatedly towards Zayn, and Zayn’d give a tiny smile, a nod in greeting before they went their separate ways.

Everything was so much simpler. Now nothing is. And it’s the last thing Niall ever wanted.

“Your ring,” Zayn blurts. Niall finds him staring at his left hand, pale fingers wrapped around an elbow. Band-less. “You took it off?”

“I--” Niall rushes, quick to appease him. It’s so tense, thick with a gruesome realization poised on top of Zayn. And Zayn still hasn’t looked away from his hand, is slowing clenching his hands together where they rest by his legs. He’s angry, maybe disappointed, and with Niall’s efforts at stopping the crestfallen expression on Zayn’s face, Niall suddenly doesn’t care, suddenly swallows his words and waits for Zayn to look up at him.

Zayn looks like he’s been told a lie his whole life, like the tedious quest he journeyed on was all in vain when the princess was already back at the kingdom, sipping wine with the monarchy. Niall hates that, hates with a physical passion the look on Zayn’s face. But he reminds himself he wanted Zayn to feel something a long time ago.

“Yeah,” he answers, facing ahead, letting his left hand be in Zayn’s clear vision. “Yeah, I did.”

Zayn’s still wearing his, a thick gold ring that’s small next to his knuckles. It’s the only ring on his left hand, gave up the other rings to live on his right or in his drawer. Niall remembers that, too, the day Zayn explained it to him. It was so beautiful, that memory.

It was.

Zayn looks away, blinks repeatedly ahead as adults scatter around them to watch their kids. Avery’s sitting next to Theo, silent as he prattles on about something before she stands up to walk away. Theo pouts, gets up to follow her tiny retreating back to the laser tags.

Niall kind of wishes Zayn was a stranger, a blank presence in the room. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so disappointed in himself. Maybe then he could enjoy his daughter’s party.

 

The birthday party is filled with people Niall’s loved his whole life and others for maybe not as long but just as much. And he’s so sad with everything.

He talks with Liam and Dani for a little, just enough that when he leaves them it isn’t abrupt or rude. Liam’s bouncing Piper on his lap, her brown hair jumping as he holds her tiny hands between his index and middle finger on each hand, and the two of them are respectful. They answer Niall’s questions when he asks how’s the pregnancy and they laugh when he gives them humorous memories from his, how outrageous his libido was.

They don’t mention Zayn, but when Niall accidentally brings up the time he told him he was the father, well. Danielle’s the only one who acknowledges it; Liam just looks away, a line roughly put over his mouth.

He chats with Michael, finds Avery jumping around by his feet. Michael picks her up while they talk, and instinctly groans in pain when she pulls on the ruby streak through his bleached blonde hair. She laughs, the evil little thing she is. And after Niall lightly scolds her when he stands her up, she apologizes before running away again, probably where the Jinora actress has disappeared to.

Michael rubs the spot, shrugs when Niall apologizes again but they only end up laughing when Michael admits his hair was a bit thinning at that precise area, anyway.

They’re still a band, polishing their third album that’s set to release sometime in the next year. Niall was one of the first few to hear it beforehand, picked out the obscured mistakes and offered advice but it was all totally great, fucking awesome, honestly.

“Wish I could help in some way. We all do, actually,” Michael mutters after a dull silence, and suddenly nothing’s awesome. “Like. Mate,” he sighs, “this is all fucked up. So fucked up and I swear to God I never thought he. Never thought something like this’d happen to you, dude,” he frowns.

“Well,” Niall shrugs, bites a corner of his lip and sends a frazzled smile. “I never expected this either, so. Nothing to do now.”

Niall pats his shoulder, leaves his hand there before walking away. He makes sure everything’s in order, or as in order as everything could be. Every little child has icing over their face from the cake when they sang happy birthday (when Niall reluctantly held onto one side of Avery as Zayn stood on the other while they all sang like the happy family they were), and their small sneakers are bruised and blemished from the running and climbing and crawling. Harry’s going to be pissed when he finds Scar’s white pair to resemble grey at this point.

Avery’s sitting at the table, a big plate of pasta in front of her that’s at level with her nose. Her arm’s raised over herself with a utensil in hand, poised on top of the dish as she pierces a hearty size and brings it down to her mouth. Niall can’t help but giggle.

“Are you having trouble, Ems? I thought Nanny was watching you eat,” he greets, sitting on the seat next to her and pulling her miniature body to sit on his lap.

“Yeah she was, but her and Nana wanted to talk to Baba so they told me to stay here,” she answers, bringing the plate closer to her. She doesn’t have to struggle at this angle, merely piles enough macaroni on the spoon before filling her mouth.

“Oh,” Niall mumbles. Oh _shit_ , he thinks. And is going to ask her something else when he’s hit with a nausea that makes him dizzy.

It’s the mac n’ cheese, he’s sure of it. That’s the only thing he can smell from here. Its thick, chewy and cheesy odor is wafting through his nose, making his eyes water from the stench and literally has his insides swimming--fucking drowning.

“You still like this, love?” he chokes, tucks his chin to his chest to inhale the faint cologne on his shirt. It’s not working, though. Avery has the sticky substance between her teeth and on her tan cheeks and all over her hands. Niall craved this pasta like a miracle when he was pregnant, now he can’t ever imagine eating it again, only pictures the struggling pregnancy he went through.

“Are you kidding, Daddy? I _love_ macaroni. I thought you knew.”

“Oh, trust me, honey, I do,” he nearly retches before picking up his daughter to sit her in the seat as he gets up. “I’m going to use the loo, okay? You stay right here until Baba gets back. And tell him to clean your hands and face.”

She agrees immediately, voice high-pitched as she focuses on the meal again with the closest thing to integrity her young body can muster.

Niall barges into the gender-neutral restroom, lucky that it’s empty as he grips the white porcelain sink and huffs cold air through his heated lungs. God, he’s going to throw up. He’s really going to throw up for the first time in almost thirty days and he’s not entirely fucking pleased with that. His throat’s expanding, opening up in preparation and his mouth’s watering, filling with a liquid too hot and thin for spittle.

“Fucking Christ,” he spits, running the tap to swish clean water through his mouth. He’s barely calm for a minute when a timid knock appears. “In use, mate, sorry,” he calls, leaning against the wall for support.

When Niall looks, it’s Zayn. He didn’t get the fucking message.

“Said it was occupied.”

“I know,” he says softly, keeping his distance as the door shuts quietly behind him. Zayn leans against it, then, crosses his arms and messes with one side of his mouth as he looks at Niall genuinely. There’s a wide red mark on his face, right below his left eye; Niall would sneer mercilessly if he wasn’t so preoccupied with keeping his stomach at bay. “I just want to talk, honestly.”

“About what, Zayn?” he sighs, rubs a hand across his forehead, peering at the ground. He still can’t look at Zayn. His goddamn husband.

Goddamn it.

“You know what,” he says, just as lightly. His amber gaze flicks between Niall and the ground, long fingers around an elbow where the sleeve’s rolled up and same corner of his mouth gnawed on.

“This is our daughter’s birthday, Zayn. You’re supposed to be with her right now, anyway. We’ll talk another time.”

“There won’t be another time, Niall,” he complains, standing up straighter and keeping his eyes on Niall this time. “Because after today you’re going to go back to ignoring me and I’m not gonna force myself home if you don’t want me there.”

“I don’t want you there,” he confirms, raising an eyebrow towards the ground. It’s quiet, besides Zayn’s rushed inhale. The rest is silent. There’s a faulty dripping on the little sink behind Niall and the muted roar of the party is seeping through the cracks under the door but the rest is quiet.

Niall won’t talk; can’t talk. He wouldn’t even know what to say when there’s nothing to erase it all.

“I know,” Zayn eventually says. “I know, Ni. So,” he sighs, and Niall looks up to see him run fingers through the black strands over his face, pushing them away and making the hand mark on his face glare menacingly.

Niall doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse. He wonders how long this lack of interest is going to last.

“Niall, you took off your ring,” he stresses, speaking the loudest since he entered. “Fuck, you. You seriously took it _off_ and--”

“And what, Zayn? Did you seriously expect me to still wear it after everything?” he accuses, bringing a hand up in the air for emphasis. The other hand’s tucked under the elbow of the arm crossed over his chest, stance just dripping boredom and exhaustion.

“I just didn’t expect that. I don’t.” He licks his lips, shakes his head before continuing and standing more confident than before. “I don’t like where our relationship is going. And I want to work on it but you don’t want to.”

“I don’t,” he shrugs, making it clear. Zayn reels back, blinks once and focuses on Niall like he’s seeing an extra limb grow from his face. “Zayn, you’re the father of our daughter, and I’m the biological bearer of her. That’s our relationship, all right?”

“We’re married,” Zayn challenges, but he can’t even keep eye contact with Niall.

“We’re legally married, yes. But we’re not husbands, I’m sorry. You fucked that up. But you’re still a father. And you’re _not_ going to fuck that up, got it?”

Zayn looks away, moves his jaw to the side and curves his eyebrows down before releasing a chuckle, but his mouth’s turned into a scowl.

“No. No, you don’t get it, all _right_?” he bites, walking over to Niall. “I fucked up, _yes_. And it’s all my fault, I understand. But Í’m sorry, Niall. I still love you. I can’t just forget about _that_. I can’t just forget about _this_ , right now. We have a fucking daughter and I’m not going to act like I can just give up on our family when I can’t. I’m not even going to try when this is honestly all I want in life,” he pouts. “Do you still love me?” he asks.

“Zayn,” Niall groans, rubs a hand down his face again. “Zayn, we have to get back to Avery, this party’s almost done.”

“Answer me. Do you love me, Niall?” he repeats, stepping nearer. Niall looks to the right, but there’s only a mirror there that bounces their close reflections back at them. And looking to the left only results in the side of Zayn lining down his peripheral. “C’mon,” Zayn whispers. “Just answer me.”

“Zayn,” Niall exhales, but regrets it when his inhale’s full of the pungent odor. “Oh my God, you cleaned Ems.”

“Um,” Zayn quirks, tilting his head to the side. “Uh, yeah? You told her to tell me to clean her. She was really messy, it was nasty,” he continues, only growing more perplexed with the change of subject. “You okay?”

“No, dumbass, you reek of that pasta,” he lets out before turning around and emptying his stomach into the garbage disposal perched behind him. This reminds him so much of morning sickness but it’s worse. Everything’s so much worse than pregnancy and he didn’t even think that was humanely possible. His stomach’s void, and his throat burns like acid, but he only gags and spits bile at this point.

Zayn’s still there, rubbing his back and keeping the hairs off his forehead.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks, helping Niall stand up despite the blond’s protests.

“Go away,” he sighs, cleaning his mouth again and rubbing cold water over his forehead. “I appreciate it but seriously, Zayn.” He turns to Zayn, lets the disappointment and weakness show on his face. “I just can’t believe you’re sincere right now when you really fucked someone else, three damn times.”

Zayn opens his mouth, shuts it again. There’s nothing left to say, but Niall repeats himself for the hell of it, letting Zayn understand just how big it all really is.

Neither says anything else. They can’t when someone else knocks.

Niall’s the first to turn away, clenches his teeth together before his lip begins to tremble.

“All yours, mate,” he says, before the knocker stops him. “Mia!” he greets when he realizes who it is, hugs her to him tightly. She was the one who told Niall he was pregnant, almost five years ago. He still likes to keep in touch with her, and Avery loves her like an aunt. “So happy you came, thought you weren’t gonna show up.”

“Yes,” she laughs, pushing her bangs to the side. Zayn spots her, walks away before he picks up her frown. She turns back to Niall. “I wasn’t, actually. And I know everyone’s about to leave. I just came last minute. Ave said you were using the loo. Didn’t know you were with him, but...”

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head before people jump to assumptions. “No, we’re not. You know. We were just talking, honestly. I can’t emphasize that enough,” he laughs, attempting to make the mood lighter.

She only frowns more, eyes opening with hopeless clarity.

“Listen,” she eventually says. “I need you to make another visit. I’ll be at the hospital this whole week for whenever you’re available, okay? Don’t forget.”

“Is everything okay?” he asks, immediately turning to Avery. She’s laughing at something Zayn said, her father sat next to her as her blue eyes squint in glee. “What’s wrong?”

“Just stop by,” she concludes.

And Niall does stop by.

And he learns he’s been carrying another life for three months.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i listened to the whole album and omfG I NEVER THOUGHT BEING 1D AF CAN BE SO PAINFUL AND AROUSING AT THE SAME TIME. HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS ALBUM IS FUCKING GREATTTTLSMVN LN S  
> if i had to choose one to be my favorite (which is so harddd), i'd pick stockholm syndrome.  
> what about yours?  
> ((this was all drafted a few days ago which is why it is-should be-formatted correctly. the wifi's fucking up again -^- i'm gonna die; everything's so limited on my phone but hopefully it's fixed soon. hope you like the chap also xx))

When Louis was pregnant, he just texted them the confession in a group chat, wrote _guess who’s prego from Harold’s semen?_ with the most unimpressed shot of his face laying down on a hospital bed.

It was chaotic from there, the three others arriving within two weeks. And they all voiced loud noises with no direct meaning for a while until Louis sighed and leaned against Harry on the sofa, yelling for everyone to shut up.

“I’ll start,” he lolled when it was silent for long enough, rolled his eyes in faux exasperation before grinning. “So it was late one night, and after this lovely specimen next to me and I came home, um. Well, I started sucking his dick.”

“Seriously?”

“Shh, Liam. So yeah, I was doing that. But for some reason I didn’t like it. And I love dick, you know that. And for the first time ever I was really grossed out by it.”

“Thought he was going to throw up on my balls and everything,” Harry drawled, leaning back on the sofa with an arm around Louis and the other scrolling through his phone.

“Shut. Up,” Louis hissed before turning to the other three. “So that happened and I did eventually throw up but I made it to the bathroom on time. And the next day I threw up, too. Then it wouldn’t go away so when we went to the clinic... they told us we were having a baby.”

“Can you believe that?” Harry beamed, putting his mobile device away. “Lou’s having a baby. _My_ baby,” he laughed, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “God, I know I can’t believe that.”

Louis called him a sap, made a face at him. Harry only made one back before Liam worked up the means to rightfully congratulate them, the other two following.

Niall and Zayn weren’t together at the time, but when they left to go home they spent the next two weeks together, obscuring the lines between buds and lovers completely. Then Zayn left and everything ran its course like before.

Niall told them he was pregnant via mobile, wasn’t surprised when Louis almost barged down the door two days after.

“What the actual fuck,” he had greeted the moment Niall opened up, Scarlett asleep on Harry’s shoulder with frizzy curls around her closed eyelids. “What actual fuckery do you mean you’re pregnant?”

It was just the four of them, Liam having made himself comfortable to help around since Niall lived alone. He didn’t tell Zayn yet, but he knew; Zayn knew.

“So tell me,” Louis started after Niall explained the hospital visit, “did he grab a hold of it, or did he smack that ass?”

Niall only laughed, nostrils flaring as he pinked up and faced the floor. It was just like Louis to recite that movie, the way they binge-watched all of them during their last tour.

“Kinda both?” he admitted, shrugged, blushed even more. It was the truth.

The next day brought questions that Niall couldn’t brush off.

“Where’s Zayn?” Harry asked, pulling his lips back to border his teeth as he bit his daughter’s fingers playfully. Niall only momentarily fidgeted, blinked before swallowing. Liam knew the whole story, knew it all from the beginning. Louis and Harry only knew they messed around during the band, nothing more.

“He,” Niall started, before mindlessly ducking his head, looking up without a sight to focus on as he gazed aimlessly around. “Can’t really tell the father over the phone, you know. That he’s having a child.”

Scarlett babbled on and on for maybe two whole minutes before anyone said _anything_.

“What. You mean...” Louis said, couldn’t finish. Harry didn’t notice his daughter untying his bandana and pulling at the individual threading. “You mean Zayn’s...?”

“The father? Yes,” Niall nodded, payed extra attention to his cuticles that suddenly needed all the help they can get. “But you can’t tell ‘em. I’m gonna, leave that to me.”

“Of. God, of course, but. I didn’t know you’d. Never thought--”

“We’re not together, we never were. It was just the one time he didn’t. You know... didn’t use protection and now,” he gestured down his body, puckered his bottom lip out of boredom, “I’m having a baby,” he tried to laugh.

“When did this happen?” Louis asked, smirking and engrossed in this gossip. Niall loved him so much, how he didn’t ponder on the misfortunes of the situation.

“Well,” Niall mulled it over, “Remember that interview we did? Where they sorta implied your and Harry’s marriage wasn’t gonna last and the rest of the sitting was so fucking thick with tension we were damn choking on it?”

“Yeah, I remember! It was that day?”

“Mmhmm,” Niall hummed, smiled and wiggled his eyebrows, “We didn’t exactly leave early because we were hungry. Well, not for food.”

“No wonder you took so long to bring my ham sandwich,” Harry whined. “I ate Scar’s baby food to appease me for the meantime, it was revolting.”

“We have juicy gossip and you’re talking about food? Okay,” Louis rolled his eyes, receiving a kick in the shin in return. “We won’t tell him,” he said to Niall, chucked a finger under his pale chin. “This is a hard thing to keep in but I promise you we won’t breathe a thing to him.”

Niall smiled genuinely, reached over to hug Louis. When he pulled back Louis still had a glint in his eye, maybe even more vibrant.

“Oh my God, you fucked Zayn fucking Malik. I've never asked before but how was _that_?”

The most surprising was Liam’s, when they didn’t even know he and Danielle were fucking.

“Bro, you’re finally becoming a dad?” Zayn chuckled, braiding Avery’s hair as she tried to braid Harry’s laying down in front of her. “M’not gonna sugarcoat anything, but it’s worth it.”

Liam was too frazzled to answer, just slumped in the chair behind him and _ahhhhh_ ed until his lungs gave out. They were all visiting Karen, a big family reunion she called for that no one could’ve backed out of. Stuffed in Liam’s old bedroom with three extra tiny persons, Liam blurted his confession in the middle of Niall’s story of the time he tried and failed to squeeze milk out of his nipples--tits, he respectfully called them.

“Guys, we’re not even together. Like, together together. We’re just friends.”

“Zayn and I weren’t together and. Well, we’re pretty good now,” Niall offered, blushing when Zayn bit his shoulder in recognition.

“I know, but.” And he just mumbled nonsensically on and on and on again before his phone beeped with a message. “She just took her fourth test in the last hour and yeah. She’s pregnant.”

“Dude, that’s good! You know you’ve always loved her,” Louis cheered, laying down on the bed with Piper sleeping in the crook of his arm.

“I did not.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Harry tried to reason. “She was your first love. You always have _something_ for your first love that never really goes away completely. And she still loves you, you know that.”

“You’re making this all seem easier than what it is. She’s pregnant, man. Danielle’s pregnant with my baby,” he said, before his eyes bulged. “Holy shit, she’s having my baby. She’s having my baby?”

“Yes,” Louis sighed, carefully getting up to massage Liam’s shoulders. “Yes, she is. And you’re going to be the lovely chap you are and go set things right, okay?” he exaggerated, as if Liam was the sole child lost at an amusement park. “You’re going to drive to her house in the rain, make sure you’re soaked by the time she opens the door, and make sweet sweet love while Ed sings _One_ in the background.” Liam only looked at him gobsmacked, couldn’t form words. “Don’t worry,” Louis continued. “We’ll have our pal there in the flesh, make the whole moment live and raw, you know?”

“You’re demented,” Liam gulped, skin sweating and turning green. “You’re all sick.”

“And you’re overthinking,” Zayn spoke, moving to sit on the edge of the bed instead of the floor. “Look, Li. It’s not completely easy, but it’s not as difficult as you’re making it to be. Go to Danielle. Tell her the truth, that you want this, her and the baby more than anything. And she’ll be putty in your hands. Trust me,” a gentle smirk grazed his face, and his vision flickered to Niall before focusing on Liam, “it’ll work. I promise you. You won’t regret a thing.”

Despite the idiocy and abrupt timings, each pregnancy was welcomed, was exciting and so amazing for the parents.

 

But Niall’s pregnant again, has a-- has a living human inside of him for the second time and there’s only so many ways he can go about this.

He’s sitting on his dining room table, waiting for Zayn to arrive because he can’t _not_ tell him; can’t keep this all in when it all literally makes him shake and tremble, makes him sweat and more nauseous than before.

And the throwing up, the headaches, the intense insecurites. It all makes sense now, everything magnified with Zayn’s wrongful act. But Niall can only think about himself at the moment, how he’s going to become a statistic.

If he’s being the slightest honest with himself, he already is.

He made himself a bowl of oatmeal, a well portion of healthy nutrients that’s good for him. He served Avery and himself and his daughter finished hours ago, is already seeing telly in the living room. Niall can see her from here, long eyelashes framing blue eyes, the way her small pink mouth curves into a giggle when she laughs.

He can’t bring himself to smile, tries to keep thoughts out of his head, thoughts like _how much longer do I have this?_

He can’t consume the meal in front of him. And he basically ate this all throughout his first pregnancy for breakfast, loved it fully. But nothing can defect the odds that are stacked against him. A bowl of nutritional vitamins isn’t going to save him. All the drinking and starving himself and exhausted sleep and stress in the last few months only made everything worse. So, much, worse.

His body can’t hold another baby; and even if it can, he might to die, most likely will die.

That’s the scariest thing ever.

Oh damn. Oh fucking damn.

Niall looks down at his hands, inkless and charmless and bare, flexes his fingers because this time next year might not happen for him. He looks down his body, the loose red shirt he’s wearing, the ripped sweats and fuzzy socks. He loves them, loves his whole body and home. Loves Bosco who’s biting his ankle, loves Avery who’s resting her tan head on the armrest, full black hair falling over the edge. He loves himself, only because he doesn’t know how long he can.

You’re going to need support, Mia had said, after he made her run another test, to make sure this was all actually happening. _Niall, I have nothing good to say, but you can’t do this alone. Talk to him._

He didn’t, not at first. But he’s known he was with child for three weeks and he texted Zayn the night before if he could stop by today and he’s waiting. Waiting for something, he’s not even sure of what. He’s not sure of anything. And nothing’s more scary than this. No one should have this surplus of anxiety filling you up, squeezing through the tiny spaces and making your skin feel stretched tight.

The worst part about it all is Avery. His innocent, young, beautiful daughter. She just turned four and her Daddy might not be around to see another birthday. It makes Niall distraught, crazy, out of his goddamn mind. He can’t leave his daughter. Fuck the world, but he _can’t leave_ _her_! He feels like he owes her so much, feels like he betrayed her in a way. He loves her, is in love with her with all he has. How is he going to share that love with someone else?

He might not even be around for that and he has to keep reminding himself of it.

It’s a struggle to just breathe with all the weight on top of him.

“Niall?” Zayn asks, cautiously stepping a foot into the room. His jacket’s still on, nose red from the weather outside. “I called, knocked for a while and no one answered so...”

When Niall doesn’t answer, only looks at him, Zayn walks the rest of the way, sits on Niall’s right with a question settling over his features. He’s trying to hide it, his curiosity, the fact Niall hasn’t uttered a sound yet. But he waits.

Niall just wants to look at him, still has so much hatred for the man who’s his husband, but wants to take this moment to appreciate him.

Zayn has the faintest of facial hair, just the tips of bristles poking out of his colored skin. His hair is down, covering most of his forehead and framing the back of his neck with curved black strands. He’s so beautiful with his hazel eyes and sharp jaw and full mouth. So beautiful and lethal but Niall wants to drink this in, wants to store this in case he’ll never witness it in the flesh again.

“Niall, babe. You there?”

Niall is there, never been as present in a moment as much as now. He breathes fully, grants his lungs their purpose of keeping him alive before they fail him, lets his heart beat willingly and his nerves send messages all through his body. He wants to grant his body its job for as long as he can.

Avery’s asleep, Niall finds when he looks away from Zayn. She’s at the same corner of the sofa with a thick wool blanket over her, no blue glare from the telly over her face. Zayn must’ve done that, must’ve tucked her in. Niall doesn’t know how much time passed but he doesn’t want to waste it, either.

“Hi, Zayn,” he smiles, looks at the man completely. Zayn only fidgets, momentarily pulls back in surprise before rushing out a nervous chuckle, not expecting that.

“Um. Hi?” he questions, moving around in his seat. Bosco’s on his lap, stuffing his face inside the army green jacket.

Niall suddenly wants this forever.

“You asked me to stop by?” Zayn continues when Niall only grins towards the table, a small lift on the corner of his pale pink mouth.

“Yeah, I.” Now he’s fidgeting, slowly clenching his hands and shaking under the faded t-shirt. “I have to tell you something, Zayn.”

Zayn’s face is void, smile wiped away with the statement. He turns, looks at Bosco, places his hands flat on the table for something to do.

“All right,” he slowly nods, looking down at his fingers drumming on the surface. He’s not looking at Niall, and Niall can’t express how much he adores and hates the man all at once.

He wants to enjoy this, but everything’s against him and he’s never been so scared.

“Are you filing for a divorce?” Zayn blurts, doesn’t look up. It takes a moment, but Niall manages to react, to quickly shake his head and say _no! that’s not. no, it’s not that_. Zayn sighs, eyelids closing with relief as he sags against the seat. It’s still quiet, and after tensing his jaw, he finds the competence to ask, “did you do something? With. With someone else?”

“Zayn--”

“If you did, that’s. Niall, it’s okay,” he fumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose with a painful exhale. “I mean, I can’t expect anything else, yeah? We can,” he breathes, “we’ll work around it if that’s what--”

“It’s not about us, Zayn,” Niall consoles, has the capability to place his hand over Zayn’s to stop his shaking. Zayn’s skin is hot, burning to the touch with how nervous he is. But it doesn’t stop him from turning his hand over to grip Niall’s, not wanting to let this moment go to waste.

“Okay,” Zayn sighs, sits up straighter when an ugly realization dawns on him.

“Did something happen to my girl?” he harshly asks, nostrils flaring with the thought. “Niall, did--”

“No, Zayn,” he gently shakes his head, frowning as Zayn looks at him. “No, Ems’ completely fine.”

This time Niall sits up straight, grips Zayn’s hand tighter for comfort--he’s disgusted how much it helps--and forces himself to continue.

“I’m going to tell you something, Zayn. And I need you to really listen. This might break the family apart.”

Zayn's heavy grip loosens, shatters around the edges before he wills himself to respond, nods for Niall to continue.

But Niall can’t, because Zayn probably looks the way Niall feels inside. He looks so scared, scared shitless but so determined to hear what Niall has to say, to listen to what’s going to ruin everything.

No. No, no, no. This isn’t going to ruin everything. _No_ , Niall thinks, he’s not going to think like that. Not when his unborn child hasn’t an idea of what’s going on, not when it’s still developing, hasn’t witnessed the outside world yet.

This is Niall’s goal, from now on since it might be his last. But whoever’s inside of him, whether it be another Ems or a baby boy--a baby boy, oh my God--they’re going to make it. Its chances of survival are greater than Niall’s, because if something happens to the bearer there’s enough modern equipment to incubate a living fetus outside of the womb, and that scares Niall even more, the possibility he might not be able to give his unborn baby the necessities before it’s due to arrive.

Niall’s going to at least give it that, if nothing else.

“Niall, you’re scaring the shit outta me right now.”

“I’m pregnant,” he blabs, releases before he stops himself. It takes too long before he breathes again, and he only manages to inhale enough because he reminds himself he’s not only breathing for himself anymore. Holy shit, how is he going to do this.

“No,” Zayn says after too long; too too long.

“I went to the hospital and I found out I was pregnant.”

“No,” he shakes his head, pulls his hand away to grip the edge of the table. He keeps shaking his head, keeps a moderate tilt to his mouth and repeats himself over and over again.

“I took three different tests and I’m almost four months pregnant, Zayn.”

“No. No, you can’t be. That’s not,” he struggles, swallows and. “You’re not pregnant,” he frowns.

“Please, don’t make this harder than it already is,” Niall whimpers, covering his face to hide from Zayn. But he can’t hide, he’s holding a four-month-old little baby. It’s all so surreal in the rawest way possible, imaginable, beyond imagination.

If he’s being honest, and he really is, Niall can’t remember _when_ he got pregnant. They always wore protection so--

Or.

Or Niall _thinks_ they did. Because as uncomfortable as it is to think of at a time like this, he can’t remember Zayn ever _not_ wearing... Zayn would always lick him clean after sex, never left a mess. He’d _always_ had to have a little lick and Niall never rejected because come on, who would ever deny Zayn’s tongue but.

Pale hands drop from his face, and he moves his jaw back and forth, mulls over the thought. Zayn’s still looking at him, stuck in some forsaken land in his head that’s unbearable to witness so Niall looks away, breathes again for his and his baby’s sake. Fucking hell.

“Did you always wear a condom?” he asks, gaze fixed on the ground to his right, where Bosco has landed after jumping off Zayn’s lap.

“Excuse me? Of course, Ni. I’m not. You really--”

“Are you being honest with me?” he questions, looking over to the tan man slowly losing it. Zayn’s face is crumbling, trembling around his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth. “This isn’t funny, or a joke, I need--”

“The fuck it’s not! You honestly believe I’d jeopardize your life?”

“I don’t know what to believe from you, Zayn. That’s why I’m asking again, did you always wear protection?”

“This is shit,” Zayn spits, exhaling harshly and growing red down the sides of his neck. “This is such bullshit that you’d think I’d fuck with your life like this, Niall, I love you!”

“You’ve fucked with the marriage,” Niall hisses, leaning over the table. “You fucked with that so don’t you dare say this is shit.”

Zayn’s mouth opens, a harsh retaliation biting his tongue when he stops. He leans away from Niall, closes his mouth and looks to the table, lashes covering the emotion in his eyes.

“I really hope you understand how sorry I am for that,” he whispers, thumb rubbing his eyebrow from nerves. “I can’t express how fucking _sorry_ I am for that, Niall. Babe, you’ll never get it, how much I regret that. But _this_ ,” he points a hand at Niall’s stomach, freezes when it hits him, the drastic situation, before licking his lips, “I would never threaten your life like this.”

“The marriage was my life.” Zayn’s hand smacks against the table in anger, the other fisting through his hair. “This family. _Us_ , Zayn. That was my life. And you ruined that.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Really?” Niall questions. A mock laugh escapes his mouth, the sound harsh and quick. God, it’s so hard being optimistic when everything’s shit.

“You can leave,” Niall murmurs, fingerpad pressed against the side of his mouth. His ankles are crossed, swaying under the table and his other hand’s splayed across his stomach. He can’t see a difference, no definite bulge. But he feels the miniscule arched swell when he runs a hand over the skin.

“Niall.”

“I only asked you to stop by for Ems,” he lies, “but she’s sleeping so you can go, Zayn.”

“I’m not going after you tell me this. You can’t expect me to leave.”

“But I do, and you’re going to. So.”

A chair scrapes along the floor, moving closer to Niall and he looks up to Zayn sitting next to him, inked hand gripping his bad knee soothingly.

“Babe, listen to me. Right now, yeah? I don’t know what’s going through your mind, what you’re thinking at the moment, but you can’t do this alone.”

“I can,” Niall smiles challengingly, losing control with the hot press of Zayn’s hand. “Don’t underestimate me, Zayn, I’m a big boy.”

“This isn’t funny! Niall, please don’t kick me out after this,” he begs. “Let me stay. _Please_. For our daughter. For _you_. You want nothing to do with me, I get it,” he frowns, nodding quickly like he’s trying to get Niall to understand this also. “I get that, baby, I do. But,” he shakes, laughs in pain, “I can’t just leave you here alone after that, I can’t. I,” his jaw chatters, disabling speech as he tries to grip his bearings, “I can’t do this. I can’t leave, no. I’m not leaving.”

“Yes. You are.”

“Think about it, then. I’m not leaving until you promise me that. And I mean a genuine promise, Niall.”

“Okay,” he immediately gives, not even having to think about it. After Zayn reasoning Avery, it’s near impossible to find a stronger argument. (And he loves Zayn, is still drenched horribly in this adoration he has for the man in front of him.) (Everything’s so hard.)

That calms Zayn, settles his body and makes him sigh back in his seat, slumps in relief.

The calm doesn’t last long.

It’s silent, and Niall doesn’t want to look at Zayn. But it’s all more silent than Niall could handle. And he can feel Zayn’s stare, fucking breaking through his skin and igniting his body in the most drastic way possible and Niall wants none of this.

“What?” he asks, biting the skin by his finger. Zayn doesn’t look away.

“Zayn, what is it?”

“You’re really going through with this?”

“What do you mean?” Niall genuinely asks, dropping his hand on his lap. Zayn takes it, holds it firmly with a thumb rubbing Niall’s knuckles.

“You’re really...” Zayn tries to explain, looking down at their hands. His grip only tightens. “You’re really going through with the pregnancy? Like, there wasn’t an alternative? _Anything_?”

“I don’t--” Niall bites his lip, jolts a finger when Zayn runs his fingertips over his lightly. Their skin is barely touching, and now his hand’s in between both of Zayn’s.

Zayn can’t stop ghosting his hand over every patch of its skin.

“Zayn, I don’t get what you’re--”

“Do you want to do this?” Zayn interrupts, looking up with desperation in his eyes. “Do you want to have another baby again? Do you _really_ want this or do you just feel guilty that you don’t?”

Niall’s confused, goes to move his hand when Zayn grips him closer, brings his chair closer, _him_ closer.

“No one’ll judge you,” he continues, almost piercing Niall’s skin with his hold. “I know that’s what you’re thinking about, what people’ll think, Ni, and. God dammit, don’t do this.”

“Are you suggesting I abort?”

“I’m suggesting anything if it means you’ll stay.”

His hand pulls out of Zayn’s grip harshly, leaving red marks when Zayn’s nails scraped the skin with the action.

“Are you fucking serious?” he spits. “You’d abort your own child?”

“I’m not comfortable with that, I’m not,” Zayn quickly shakes his head, choking on his tongue with frantic energy. “I’m not heartless, but you’re not leaving me.”

“I already left you,” Niall reminds. “I left you the day I found out you left me way before I did.”

“I didn’t leave you!” Zayn shouts, slapping the table. A rustle of blankets stirs, making them both instantly turn to where Avery shifts, facing the back of the sofa now. “I,” he whispers, turning to look at the floor in front of him. With a slow blink he sighs, runs a hand down his face.

“Babe, I love you more than anything. And you don’t believe me, I know you don’t. But I cannot think of you leaving me. Leaving _here_ , and our family, no matter how much I fucked up, this is still our family and I’m still working on it. Fuck, I’ll work till the day I _die_. But-- You do this and you’ll die. I can’t let that happen,” he shakes his head. “No. I won’t. I have too much to say and make up for, you’re not leaving me.”

“Zayn.”

“I didn’t marry you for you to throw your life away. I married you for the longrun. Till we can’t even stand each other, Niall.”

“Zayn!”

“Till we’re too comfortable to make an effort. I married you so when Ave’s older she has a stable home, a fucking family. _Family_ , the three of us and you’re not throwing it away!”

“There’ll still be three,” Niall points. Zayn looks at him with disgust. “Zayn, this is scary,” he pouts, tone dropping with each word. “I get it, you’re scared. Shit, _I’m_ scared. I’ve never been so scared of everything at the same time in my entire life.”

“I don’t want you to be scared, baby,” Zayn whimpers, his palm caressing Niall’s face. “You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m gonna need you,” Niall confesses, closing his eyes shut. He’s so ashamed in himself. “I can’t do all the things I used to before. I’m gonna need you to care for Avery when I can’t. I can’t do all of this alone and--”

“You have me, I was never gonna leave. I never left in the first place.”

Niall laughs softly, covers half his face.

“You’ve gotten soft on me, Z. Such a sap,” he mutters. He’s really trying to ease the moment, soften the brittle ends all over the place. But this is all so out of his control.

“’M not,” Zayn says, rubbing his bad knee and bending down to get Niall’s attention. “I just really love you.”

There’s so much left to say but no room for words; the whole room is filled with pent-up bullshit.

“You should go,” Niall settles on. Zayn’s jacket has a loose thread, the string hanging off the hem of the sleeve. Niall wants to take it out, unravel it; unravel the whole man in front of him.

“I love you.” He says it again and Niall

Niall freezes, wires out of control and spins on an invisible axis with no destination.

He can’t say it back.

And Zayn doesn’t wait for him to; he gets up, holds the back of Niall’s skull and kisses his forehead, murmurs the words against the skin.

Niall’s ashamed how resistant his body is with letting go of those words.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit lengthy... hope that's fine  
> also i've gotten reviews about niall needing to be more rough with zayn bc he doesn't deserve to have it easy and i understand that. believe me, you don't know how many times i've had to go back and erase passage after passage bc it was simply niall abusing zayn in every single way while zayn's crying mercy like a little bitch BUT. i'm also trying to stay in character and niall's not the vengeful type :/// he's not a pushover, either. but you know he's not about hurting people and he's very lighthearted and easily forgives. and while editing, a lot of it is soo not niall that it's uncomfortable so i erase it and try to add what niall would say or what he would do, etc. i hope that's fine, too. but don't worry, he won't forgive zayn easily (if he ever decides to forgive him).  
> another thing, i might add more flashback pieces bc i have a lot of ideas for those, but i'm trying to have it in a way that it corresponds to the actual story and not all of them do, so. fyi, any potential flashbacks may or may not relate to story.  
> did you guys listen to the extra four tracks? :)))) ik illusion is about sophiam but it reminds me of ziall *angrily wishes niall did indeed help write the track but isn't taking credit*

_“We doing this?”_

_Niall stops in the middle of taking off his shirt, hem curled over his breastbone as he curves an eyebrow in amused confusion._

_“Um. Yeh? T’ought we agreed like two minutes ago?”_

_“Okay,” Zain quickly nods. His hair’s growing, slanting over his eyes and he moves the rude strands hastily, returns to sitting still. “Yeah, we. I mean, I-- Let’s do it,” he stutters._

_It’s still difficult to understand Zain, the round brusque of his accent that only heightens when he’s nervous. Like right now, sunked in Maura’s sofa with nowhere to put his hands, he pulls the tight sleeve of his sweater lower across his hand, stops halfway as if he remembers he’s going to take it off soon. Niall’s only known him since the middle of the year but he’s not nervous, slightly giddy that of all people Zain agreed with little to no argument._

_“Zain, man,” Niall offers again, “If this isn’t yer thing, we’ll stop, all right? No hard feelings. Not like we’ll ever see each other again after this, not like we signed a two-year contract last week or anythin’.” He has the audacity to giggle when Zain glares at him with embarrassment. “Seriously, though. We can sleep the rest of the day away if y’want.”_

_“Shut up, Niall, I can barely understand what you’re saying when you talk so fast, anyway. Just,” he drawls, steadies his breathing. “Tell me what to do now.”_

_“You can start by takin’ yer kit off,” Niall smirks, pulling his shirt completely off. Zain goes as far as sitting shirtless with his trousers pushed around his knees, underwear pulled lower around his hips. “Right, yer on the right track, so.”_

_“What now?”_

_“I’m just as new to this as you are,” Niall softly reminds, stands in front of him to tap his cheek playfully. Zain smirks into it, full lips smiling._

_“Just don’ want you thinking m’using you, for like. Experimenting or summat. That’s not it, Ni.”_

_“I know.”_

_“And if,” he squirms, faces Niall’s abdomen instead of him. “You still feel the same from a few months ago, maybe--”_

_“I don’t, I’m over that petty crush,” he lies, gives a playful tone so Zain knows all is well. It's just a little crush, he reminds himself. (He couldn’t get over Zain if he tried.)_

_Zain nods, slumps back to make his body more accessible and pats his thighs._

_“Alright, get on. Before your mum gets here or Louis calls.”_

_“Lou has an obsession wit’ you, accept it,” Niall gives, unbuckling his belt and sliding his jeans down his legs. "Might want a kiss for his birthday in a few weeks." They have the house to themselves for a few hours, just enough time that he can toy with the act, can slowly pull the tight briefs lower with each second._

_The holidays are weeks away. It'll be the first time Niall spends it with a career under his belt. The first time he'd like to bring someone home. Or in his case, keep him there._

_By the time he kicks them somewhere near the lamp, Zain’s breathing through his nose, hands balled by his side. Niall strives with the fact at least Zain finds him attractive; he wouldn’t have mentioned this idea in the first place, if not._

_“All right,” he proceeds, kneeing over the sofa until Zain’s under him, eyes fixed on his pale soft abdomen. “Backing out yet?”_

_Zain shakes his head, shifts his gaze to Niall’s prick that’s really in view._

_“Does that bother you?” Niall asks, looks to where his dick’s tensing towards the left. “You can look at the ceiling if yer uncomfortable or--”_

_“I have one of my own, s’fine. Just never had one so close to my face.”_

_Niall laughs, a bright cheery sound that’s sudden, makes Zain laugh also when Niall hunches his back with it. Zain doesn’t look away from his face, then; the way his crooked teeth are shameless and the bags under his eyes grow with amusement._

_They’re about to have sex and Zain can’t look away from his face._

_“Hand it over,” Niall eventually says with a tremble, wipes his eye and sighs with contentment. His thighs are straining with hovering over Zain and he needs to get started already. Zain asks what he’s talking about. “Lube, Zain. Or, oil. Lotion, whatever’s yer preference.”_

_“For what?”_

_Niall sits back on Zain’s thighs suddenly, momentarily tenses when his dick slides over Zain’s clothed cock but ignores it._

_“Seriously? You were gonna fuck me dry?”_

_It takes a moment for Zain to respond, having to stop the growing gasp with the rough contact. When he’s composed he shrugs helplessly , mutters something about saliva and other bodily fluids._

_“Oh fuck, I’m a minute away from stopping this,” Niall sighs, standing up and walking towards the kitchen, not bothering covering his body and Zain just **looks**. “Was gonna get my virginity taken, and die in the process. Thought you loved me, Zainie, I’m surprised,” he shakes his head, returning with a quizzical bottle of thick oil._

_“I do love you,” Zain murmurs, pouts when Niall doesn’t acknowlegde his serious tone. Niall studies the bottle when he climbs over Zain’s body again, sits comfortably and gives Zain a sliver of dignity with not mentioning the erection dying of suffocation in the briefs._

_“Hope these aren’t yer favorite trousers,” Niall gives, pours a capful of the slimy liquid over his fingertips before tucking the bottle in the cushion next to them, making sure it won’t spill over. “Gonna get a little messy.”_

_His breath draws tight with the intrusion, hooks an elbow over the back of the couch and rests his weight on his knees. Zain knows Niall’s fingered himself before, but it’s alarming seeing it in person, in front-- on top of you, **for** you. _

_Niall furrows his eyebrows, groans behind his lips while he works his fingers deeper. He can’t say he always enjoys the stretching, tries to keep the discomfort off his face because Zain’s taking all of this in, gauges every flicker of emotion when Niall breathes or blinks or bites a chapped lip._

_“You should,” Niall starts, bringing the hand over the couch down and around himself, grips a cheek to spread him more apart. “Get yer dick out, mate, we’re past formality at this point,” he tries to ease._

_Zain’s knees are spread just enough that Niall can rest back but still get a hand between them to pull at his rim, making sure to put pressure around his inner walls._

_Fumbling with the band Zain pulls them down over his balls, shudders when his dick bounces free and lays on his lower stomach. He doesn’t do anything else._

_“Mate, I’m kinda busy back here so,” Niall gestures, closes his eyes for a moment when the resistance’s gone, can finger himself more thoroughly with the oil slipping between all the tiny crevices. “Like, grab yer dick and,” he continues, motions with head movements for Zain to work himself up._

_“Oh!” Zain finally understands, rests a hand over his hip and tentatively grabs his prick with the other, lazily moving his hand as if he’s not interested in it. Only his face is burning and his dick is very very interested and he’s nervous._

_Zain’s a dork and Niall can be awkward and Niall gets to see this boy in front of him for two more years._

_It makes him moan, a whine slipping past his throat. It seems to encourage Zain, because he looks up surprisingly, huffs and tightens his grip, fists the head of his cock repeatedly while Niall has three fingers easily pushing in and out of him, a distant squelching sound accompanying it._

_“Okay,” he breathes, closes his eyes again when his fingers start to not feel bad. “’Kay, put the condom on.”_

_Zain sits up a little straighter, has trouble keeping a steady pace with his hand and fumbling with the pocket of his jeans for a condom meshed between old candy wrappers._

_He can put a condom on expertly, needed to fake expertise with Geneva until he needn’t act anymore. The condom’s snug as it slides down, fitting around him to the base. Niall tells him to coat his dick with oil also, doesn’t complain when Zain accidentally spills a few drops on the rug and couch._

_“No take backs?” Niall asks, wipes his hand down his chest with failed effort at cleaning it. He tries not to clench around the cold empty air, only shivers in a good way when he sits up, grips Zain’s shoulder to steady himself._

_“None at all,” Zain assures, holding his dick up with his thumbs and index fingers holding it._

_“None at all,” Niall repeats shakingly. He tries not to think about it, doesn’t want to show how chaotic his mind is when Zain’s nervous enough for both of them. So repeating the words again, he drops a little, stops when Zain’s dick catches his perineum. Sliding forward a little it sets itself in place, tugs on the stretched rim and pops its head clean in._

_“Wait,” Niall huffs, pushes his sweaty blonde hair off his forehead. His thighs are trembling with keeping his weight up. He doesn’t stop because it’s painful, it’s more an odd sensation coursing in another direction._

_What do you expect when a limb’s forcing itself up your ass._

_“Hold up,” he repeats when Zain’s hips rise, sinks the cockhead another inch deeper. “Zain, wait,” he breathes, slumps forward to put weight on his elbows instead of his thighs._

_The movement goes straight through Zain’s dick, creates a dripping slide of compact heat to encase the tip of his cock completely. His jaw drops, stomach tightening with toes curling into the rug on the floor. He gasps, grips the sides of Niall’s thighs and he’s touching him for the first time._

_It makes Niall jolt, pushes him upward and causes Zain’s dick to slip out, smack his bellybutton wetly._

_“Fuck,” Zain groans, unable to respond to Niall’s muttered sorrys as he aligns himself again, takes more of Zain this time._

_Zain drops his head back, curls his hips up to meet the flesh of Niall’s ass and this is where he tells Niall he loves him._

_Niall takes it with grace, doesn’t think twice of it. He smiles, closed eyes over a relaxed face as he rotates his hips once, gapes when he feels Zain’s dick jump inside of him._

_“If this is what it took to--” He moans, mouth dropping when Zain grips the meat of his thighs tighter. “To make you admit your love, I’d have given up my ass a while ago.”_

_Zain doesn’t answer, tenses his jaw when Niall moves up, the swell of his dick following the movement. With Niall still above he raises his head to peer where they’re connected, watches his prick disappear when Niall drops completely._   
_“Oh my God,” he whines, throwing his head back again._

_“Yeah,” Niall agrees breathlessly. The word comes out with a breath, barely audible over the slap of moist skin meeting and separating again and again._

_He’s working up to it, is starting to understand why anal can be great when Zain’s dick hotly pulses, a forced lungful escaping the Bradford Boy surprisingly._

_Niall freezes, opens his unclear eyes to find Zain gobsmacked._

_“Did you just. . . ?”_

_“No,” Zain shakes his head; it’s not an answer. It’s disbelief. “I did not just come before you. No. No, I didn’t.”_

_Niall drops completely, his semi slapping Zain’s chest before settling near his right thigh. The movement cuts Zain’s shock, utters another wave of punched euphoria to spread through Zain when his dick spurts the last remnants of his orgasm with the rest._

_Niall gives Zain five seconds of veiled humiliation._

_“Zain,” he then complains, kind of bummed this is all over before it even--_

_“Zain, what the fuck, mate.”_

_“I-- Fuck, I didn’t see that coming.”_

_“Yeah, no shit.”_

_“This is so embarrassing,” Zain says behind his hands when he covers his face. “Oh my God, Niall, I’m so sorry. Fucking swear I thought I had that under control already and--”_

_“S’fine,” Niall sighs, sitting up to stand. His legs are wobbly when they straighten themselves and his thighs seem to never stop trembling. “Only means we’re going again. You have no say.”_

_“I won’t even object,” Zain muffles, rests his elbows on his legs as he tries to steady his breathing. “Swear I’m making that up to you, Ni. God, I’m shit.”_

_Niall makes a face at him, a playful grimace to let Zain know nothing’s lost. Maybe his erection, but. Semantics. Zain only groans again, tries to cross his legs as if that’ll hide his wet softening dick. It doesn’t, though._

_“C’mon,” Niall motions with his head, grabs a pair of underwear on the floor to throw at Zain. “M’hungry and yer cookin’.”_

 

_It’s forgotten about. Translation: Niall’s fine with not bringing it up since Zain doesn’t and Zain hovers more fervently. Niall doesn’t know the jist behind that, rather dwells in this sudden era of Constant Zain and Eating His Offered Leftovers and the occasional Intense Staring Contest that Niall dubs with emphasis on intense._

_It’s practically forgotten about. So it’s a little odd when Niall wakes up sometime after two in the morning to a rough shove on his shoulder._

_Niall just groans in question, falls back to sleep despite the angle of his back against the headboard._

_“Mate, wake up,” he hisses. Niall wishes he didn’t know that voice while he’s dead-ass tired._

_“Fuck you want, Zain?” Niall complains, blinks to Zain’s body kneeling near the end of the bed._

_The Xbox controller Niall was using for the game is still on his lap, Liam long gone with his own thrown controller on the bed the only evidence they ever played Resident Evil._

_“Everyone’s asleep,” Zain softly says, pulls the cord of the joystick until it slides off Niall and hits the floor with a muted thud._

_“Yeh, everyone ‘cept you, go to sleep, Z,” he yawns, trails his hand through the air to connect with Zain’s shoulder and pats the area in farewell._

_“I want to do this now,” he forces, grabs Niall’s hand before it falls with exhaustion. He tugs on his wrist to lift him up, only results with Niall raising his eyebrows above closed eyes, trying to appear attentive when he hasn’t an idea nor care of what Zain’s talking about. “Don’t make this harder for me, Ni, just wake up please? I don’t think I’ll have the courage to do this any other time.”_

_“Zain, man,” Niall mumbles, sitting up on an elbow and rubbing his eye. “Yes, Zain? Zain Malik? You birthday boy, what the fuck you want, lovely?”_

_“’S not my birthday. It passed two hours ago.”_

_“Well that’s great,” Niall blinks his eyes open, focuses until a clear Zain is in view. “What’s up?”_

_Zain ducks his head, slides his knees closer until they’re pressed to Niall’s side._

_“I owe you.”_

_Niall **really** wishes he was too tired to decipher that._

_“Like,” he seriously plays, licks his dry lips. “Like a Smash Bros. match? We can do that tomorrow if y’wa--”_

_“You know what I mean,” Zain says. Intense Staring Contest # an amount Niall lost track of last week starts, the energy of it all waking Niall up at an alarming pace._

_“You taking the piss right now, or?”_

_Zain rushly laughs, breathes a lung away and shakes his head._

_“No. Like, everyone’s asleep. They’re all knackered, I checked. Figured no time better than now and,” he fumbles through his pockets, pulls out two wrapped condoms from one and a travel sized bottle from the other. “I went through Harry’s duffel bag and found these, so.”_

_“ **Harry’s**?” Niall asks surprisingly while sitting up straighter. “You found lube looking through Harry’s kit?”_

_“Yeah. Kinda disgusted at first but. Priorities, he has them,” he reasons._

_“You don’t think. . . . he uses it with Lou, d’ya?”_

_“No, mate. I’m positive he bought a bottle of intimacy lubricant because Simon wrote it down on the list of items to bring with us. Such a necessity when you’re meeting the studio crew for the first time.”_

_“Fuck you,” Niall laughs, slaps a hand over his mouth when the sound bounces back at him._

_“Totally isn’t using this with Louis, no not at all,” Zain smirks, gently scoffs with a roll of his eyes._

_“Didn’t think they’d fucked yet, if m’honest.”_

_“It’s Louis.”_

_“It’s Harry!”_

_“It’s Louis!” Zain repeats, grand smile on display._

_Niall smiles along, moves until he’s laying flat and rubbing a hand across his bellybutton._

_“So yer gonna screw me, is that it? Some late night birthday sex? Y’could at least woo me, Zainie.”_

_“’S not my birthday, I told you.” Niall only shrugs in reply. “Think I’ve worked up the courage to actually bring this up without feeling like an arse.”_

_“Why would you feel like an arse, dear sir? It has something to do with coming first, you say?” Zain blinks once. “Sorry,” he shrugs again, “m’not sure what yer talkin’ bout.”_

_“You’re not cute,” Zain mutters, pulling back to take his shirt off._

_“I’m gorgeous, I know,” Niall sighs casually, reaching behind his neck to pull the collar of his shirt up._

_It’s so casual, all so carefree. So **Niall**._

_“You’re really down for this?”_

_Niall pauses with his sweats around his knees, legs bent and feet flat on the bed._

_“You’re with this again? Not like this is me first time, Z, just chill,” he smirks, kicking his sweatpants away with mirth as Zain blushes even more, blinks thick eyelashes to clear his head._

_“How you want me?” Niall idly asks, sitting up to shuck the last piece of clothing away. He yawns into his hand, looks at Zain when he doesn’t answer right away. “Like last time?” he continues, slowly grabbing Zain around his wrist to get him into position. His pulse is thrumming under the thin skin, thudding against Niall’s thumb. “Zain, bro, you good?”_

_“This is for you, actually. If. If you want it,” he stutters, inhales dramatically and keeps his eyes on where Niall’s touching him. “So, you can. You know, you be how you want and I’ll. Go from there, I guess. Yeah.”_

_“Uh,” Niall says, not sure how to go about this. Like, he’s not one to pass down an offer to shag Zain, but. But this is a bit different than last time. Too pronounced for his liking, for two in the morning, for them to just be friends; unfortunately. “Um. Can’t say I have a favorite position when I only rode you, so.”_

_Zain softly chuckles, presses the heel of his palm over his mouth like he’s embarrassed. He’s so cute, so goddamn gorgeous and so young._

_“Right, well,” he nods, hovers over Niall and keeps his gaze trained just above his prick. “Just lay down, then. That okay?”_

_Niall answers by getting into position, shimmies his bum down and stretches a hand for Zain to place the bottle in. Instead Zain shakes his head, pulls one of Niall’s legs to drape over his thigh and hooks his hand under the other’s knee, raises it until Niall’s foot is flat next to Zain’s calf._

_“Zain?”_

_“This alright?” he interrupts, looks down between Niall’s legs where, well._

_Niall’s not embarrassed per se. Not even uncomfortable. It’s his anatomy and he’s not shy about it. He can’t even express just what exactly he feels. But this might be a moment he never knew he wanted, the way Zain seems to want this too, if his shuddering breath and gaping mouth is anything to go by._

_“Is this too much?” Zain asks, bringing his focus to Niall’s eyes now. “I kind of have something planned,” he motions towards his forehead, as if Niall needs a visual of what he’s trying to explain. “Like, you guided last time and that was,” he huffs, “fuck, that was embarrassingly phenomenal and-- You better not tell anyone, Ni, I swear to God-- So I thought maybe this time-- I had an idea that probably if--”_

_“Sure,” Niall whispers. “You can,” he gestures towards his forehead, mimics Zain with a laugh behind his mouth._

_Zain nods with a grin and calls Niall stupid before grabbing the bottle himself, silently pouring too much into his palm, flicks the bottle away quickly to try and catch the falling droplets. A few fall on Niall, making him tense with the frigid temperature._

_“Cold,” he murmurs, passes a hand over his cock to keep it down. He’s already gone and it barely started._

_“Cold?” Zain asks. Niall nods and Zain brings his palm closer to his mouth, breathes hotly over it for a few seconds. He brings the substance near his noise. “Smells coconut-y,” he informs. Niall sits up to grab his wrist, gets a whiff of his own._

_“Smells vanilla-y.”_

_“Well, Harry is vanilla,” Zain jokes, breathing on it once more just in case._

_“And nutty,” Niall quirks, resulting in Zain giving a loud short laugh, bringing his unoccupied hand to flick Niall’s chest._

_Niall lays back down, watches Zain grip his elevated thigh to spread him more apart. Zain bites his lip mindlessly when he looks down, he isn’t even aware of it and Niall doesn’t point it out. Doesn’t want to puncture Zain’s focus when he begins to run a tan thumb over the curve of his arse, pushing the meat aside to open him up._

_Thing is, Niall’s human. He can only do careless and carefree and laidback for so long. So long seems to end the moment Zain starts with his index finger, more focused on pushing around than pushing deeper for the time being._

_“Does it hurt?” Zain asks quietly, barely enough that Niall takes a moment to reply._

_“Not,” he licks his lips, “Can’t say it hurts, just. . .” he struggles, breathes softly when Zain does venture a little further. Zain’s slowly fingering Niall and Niall’s slowly falling apart._

_“Just what?” he says just as soft, flicks his gaze to Niall’s face when he pulls his finger out to repeat the process, slides easier to the knuckle._

_Niall doesn’t answer for a moment but looks away instead. He knows Zain’s looking at him, can feel his stare as much as his finger all around his walls._

_Zain doesn’t ask again either, looks down at the finger pulling out of Niall to toy with the rim. This is all so. . . intriguing, for lack of better word._

_“Another?” he asks, pauses when Niall gives a quick nod he can’t interpret as good or bad. But when he pushes two fingers in, keeps the pressure on his lower wall Niall closes his eyes slowly, his bottom lip dropping from his teeth with an exhale. It encourages him, makes him explore deeper and provokes him to actually push **against** the rim when he can’t go any farther. _

_Niall grips the skin under his raised knee, pinches the area briefly, accidentally when Zain stretches his fingers, widens the space between them to stroke across every patch he can get to. This is the burn he was expecting, not the tingling static with the first intrusion._

_He hums to himself and tightens around Zain’s fingers experimentally. Only slightly does he dislike how out of control he is of the situation. Just slightly. Because he doesn’t think he’ll ever view Zain so fucking aroused as he does right now again._

_Zain’s mouth is dropped open, jawless with glistening lips and saliva ready to spill over. His eyebrows furrow when he twists his hand around, fucking witnesses his fingers disappearing in Niall again and again and again._

_“Feel good?” he genuinely asks before swallowing to moisten his throat._

_“No,” Niall jokingly clips. He has to stop before continuing when Zain gives a surprising push more in, jabs closer to pleasure. “Yer ugly as fuck, can’t enjoy this,” he laughs._

_He’s still laughing when Zain musters a glare towards him. And he’s not laughing when Zain shoves his fingers in farther forcefully, purposely. Niall’s not laughing because something’s happening inside of him he wasn’t prepared for._

_His laugh stops, his smile drops and he clenches his eyes shut, moans out a gasp and clenches his entire body up with the shock and unconsciously jolts his knee up. He’s not even aware he kneed Zain in the chin until he moves away in pain and grips his face._

_“What the fuck was that?” Zain groans, rubbing the area angrily._

_“What the fuck was **that**?” Niall repeats. God, that was so fucking good he can’t open his eyes. He experienced the most beautiful thing and he needs to feel that again. “Zain, do that again,” he breathes and grips his dick tighter._

_Zain sighs away the pain and moves his fingers again, feels for whatever Niall was feeling. He lucks out when a few jabs go by with nothing. But the last waves of whatever the fuck that was are still rolling over Niall, must be with the way his hand’s fisting his dick like he’s trying to catch them._

_“Slow down,” Zain urges with his other hand._

_“Then,” Niall swallows, pushes hair off his forehead. “Put yer prick to good use and ram me.”_

_“No way, I still have another finger to--”_

_“Zain,” Niall cuts him off, looks at him with as much clarity he can manage at this point. “Zainie, I need you to listen to me when I say I’m five seconds away from coming right now. So be a good lad and get yer dick working.”_

_“But the fucking condom, where is it,” Zain fumbles, pulls his fingers away quickly before he nuts right then and there._

_“Fuck the condom, let’s just **go**.”_

_“Alright, Ni, you need to chill. We’re not doing this without one so,” he finds one under Niall’s draped thigh, curses when his slippery hand can’t open it quick enough. “So just shut up.”_

_“So fucking dramatic, m’not gonna get pregnant or anythin’, mate. Jeez,” he chatters, never been so horny in his damn short life. “S’like someone pulled your--”_

_Zain’s dick is dripping lube when it touches Niall’s ass as Zain situates himself over him. With a firm grip Zain pulls Niall closer until his arse is sliding up his lap and resting below his hips, wrapped dick gliding between the crevice of Niall’s arse. Both boys breathe a sound, Niall awestruck and Zain high and needy._

_“When I say shut up, shut up,” Zain lessons until pushing his dick down to flick over Niall’s hole. The rim squirms, tightens before Zain’s eyes and he groans, repeats the action to see it again. “Fuck,” he mewls. He was looking forward to recording in the studio the following week but he’s going to die right then and there._

_The head hooks on the muscle, the way it clenches on the little bit of pressure there before Zain gives up and fucks all but strains in. It’s an easier slide after the head, the walls closing in around him from every angle, every side and fucking everywhere. He’s too blissed out to hear Niall’s warning._

_“Zain!” he hisses, roughly punching his lower abdomen. It only makes Zain jolt in surprise and clench his body, recoiling in a way that pushes him farther in. Niall groans, “I’m gonna fucking kill you, swear to God, man.”_

_“Sorry, sorry,” Zain stutters, dropping his hands flat on the bed around Niall’s frame. His eyes are closed, lashes brushing his cheekbones as he mouths words to himself. He’s praying or counting religiously, scrunching up his face when the time passes too long. “Niall,” he pleas._

_“Wait a mo’, I,” he hums, moving his hips to test it all. “Just. . . fucking hell.”_

_“I’ll go slow,” Zain promises, bringing his hips back minutely to drive forward just as softly. “I’ll go slow,” he repeats with fluttering eyelids. His eyelids are fluttering and his hips_ _are moving and his hands are gripping Niall’s thin hips tightly._

_It’s not completely bad, so Niall dwells in that. He also dwells in Zain’s rushed breathing and sweating frame, the grip on his body that doesn’t loosen. The hand smothered with lube keeps slipping, moving down or across so wherever it lands on next is accompanied with a firmer grasp than before. So when the hand passes Niall’s arse it’s met with a squeeze, meat poking out of the spaces between his tan fingers and no, it’s not bad. Nothing’s bad._

_Zain drops his forehead onto Niall’s chest, fucks him quicker. He’s trying, he’s really trying to go soft and slow and loving for Niall. But there’s a nice hot tight ass around his dick at the moment._

_“Niall,” he moans, his breath hitting Niall’s sweaty skin with a surprisingly rougher shove in him. “Oh my fucking God, Niall.”_

_Niall pets Zain’s hair back, licks his lips when it happens again. It’s here where Zain gives and shoves roughly, jabs against something and Niall doesn’t see it coming. All his nerves wire up at this exact moment and clenches his whole body up, makes him pull on Zain’s strands of hair and raise his groin into Zain’s stomach._

_“Shit,” he whimpers, whimpers again when Zain’s aim doesn’t falter. His dick is sliding over Zain’s clenched abdomen and Zain’s fucking him to split him apart and Zain’s repeating his name between them and Zain Zain Zain._

_“Ni,” he shutters, exhaling with each thrust. “Niall, fucking sh--” He’s back to exhaling, hunching his back while his hands are spreading Niall’s ass apart, scratching the flesh raw. “Ni, does this-- I am hurting you or--”_

_“I’m gonna come,” Niall interrupts, presses a hand over Zain’s mouth to shut him up. “Z, I’m gonna come so--” His dick’s pressed tight against Zain, sweaty skin against sweaty skin and Niall pulls his hair again, pulls him closer and shakes, fucking vibrates when his cock leaks. He comes hard without a noise and Zain stutters inside of him when he tightens._

_Niall never really **un** tightens again, even after he comes. Because when his dick’s spent and swaying with Zain’s erratic thrusts he stays in this clenched state of orgasmic tension long after Zain’s finished. And he only registers that Zain’s done when his face is gripped and Zain’s kissing him._

_His initial shock is primarily due to being fucked open before he feels Zain’s lips molding with his, plump skin against plump skin. And then he brings a shaking hand to frame one side of his tan face, uses the other hand to push against the bed and bring them closer. Zain’s hands are moving over his ribcage, under his shoulders and pulling him up by the back of his neck, the grounded touch of his mouth shifting when he moves his head to the other side._

_The shock wears off, sets a comforting bliss in place when Zain brings him closer, so much fucking closer and they’re still connected. Zain hasn’t pulled out yet but he’s kissing Niall like he was given just these last spare seconds to ever do this._

_Niall stutters through an exhale, jumps when Zain bites his lower lip until they’re kissing again._

_Zain pulls out when Niall’s pliant on the bed, moving lips across each other lazily._

_Niall’s final shock is the incredulity of the situation. More than anything that they never kissed before._

_They fucked twice and this is their first kiss, shared when energy’s slipping away too quickly for Niall to grasp._

_Niall’s shock doesn’t dwindle until Zain passes out next to him a little later. Even then shards of it invade his slumber._

{~*~}

“I miss my Baba,” Avery pouts after Niall asked her what she wanted for Christmas.

It’s one of their normal nights, where they’re in bed and Niall’s telly is on, whatever movie Ems picked playing through the silence. Tonight it’s _Tangled_ , and Niall can’t get the delicious thought of Hazelnut Soup out of his mind. (He doesn’t know if it’s just the cravings or him also.)

“What was that, sweetie?” he asks, petting her frizzy bangs down. Her blue eyes are on the screen, thick eyelashes fanning down as she yawns.

“I just miss my Baba,” she repeats, sluggishly rubbing her face with a small chubby hand.

(“Baba’s mine,” Niall had playfully scolded, leaning over the booth separating him from Zayn and Avery. He puckered his lips, as if he was going to kiss Zayn when Avery wrapped her tiny arms around his tan neck, pulling him towards her.

“No, my Baba,” she had laughed, two years old with the brightest smile.)

“Why you say that, Ems?” he asks, pulling her over to rest on his chest, making sure not to put weight on his stomach. It’s scary and exciting, the fact he’s growing another little baby, another human that’s his and Zayn’s. As fucked up as everything is, he likes the fact he’s the only bearer of Zayn’s children.

Well, for now. Zayn’s not going to stay alone after Niall. After he _leaves_.

“Because,” she explains, not venturing further before falling asleep.

Niall laughs, kisses her hair and face repeatedly as he sets her comfortably, her little body curled into the blanket and pillow next to him.

“All right, princess, good night. Daddy loves you."

 

  
“But you have to come,” Louis whines over the phone, not giving Niall any chance at refusing. “It’s my birthday.”

“Yeah, just like it is every year,” Niall reminds, dressing his daughter up for Christmas Eve. She’s wearing a dark red dress, gold glitter on the surface with black stockings and black shoes she can’t help but jump around in. A matching black bow is in her hair stopping strands from falling into her face.

She’s so damn beautiful, and Niall can’t help but take multiple photos on his polaroid, letting the strips fall on the rug between them as she pouts.

“Daddy, can we go now?” she grumbles the same time Louis says, “Heeeey, that’s not fair, you didn’t come to my party last year.”

Niall sighs, looks down at Avery and asks, “Wanna talk to Uncle Louis?”

She holds her hand out, mouth dropping in excitement as the device is placed in her hand.

“Hi, Uncle Louis!” she cheers, hopping to sit on the chair behind her. Her tiny legs swing back and forth and she bites her lip in glee. “No, Daddy didn’t tell me, happy birthday!”

Niall smiles, moves to put away the loose shirts around before fixing his hair in the mirror. He sees Avery’s reflection through the glass, when she cackles at something Louis said and gasps in surprise.

“Really?” she squeaks, hunching and resting an elbow on her covered knee, chin on palm. “That’s so sad, Daddy’s so mean!”

“Hey!” Niall calls, trying to school his grin. “What did he say?”

“You didn’t go to Uncle Louis’ birthday last year even after he cried?”

“He did not cry.”

“Yuh huh! He told me right now that he cried and you still didn’t go. Daddy, you’re going today.”

“Give me it,” Niall rolls his eyes, immediately asking when the phone’s pressed to his ear, “What did you tell Ems?”

“Well, not a fallacy, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You didn’t cry. You pouted and got Harry to try and convince me. That’s it.”

“I still have your daughter on my side. C’mon, Ni, please?” he whines. “ _C’mon, C’mon_ ,” he sing songs, failing halfway when he erupts into chortles.

“I wanna be with my daughter tonight,” Niall mutters low enough, peering at her from his periphery; she’s still sitting on the chair, resting her head on arms laid atop the armrest. “Your party is a _party_ , not a family-friendly event.”

“Sean’s already here. And Eoghan’s on his way. Stan and Andy want you here, man. The birthday boy wants you here.”

“Did you invite Zayn?”

There’s a lull, punctuated with a cheer through the phone before Louis speaks after it’s silent.

“Harry told him about it,” he murmurs. “Don’t know, we’re not all happy with him, but... No offense--”

“Nah, I get it. He’s still a part of us, like. Be weird, if you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Louis drolls. “Hope that doesn’t bother you, mate.”

“It’s cool,” Niall laughs softly, pinching the blonde split ends over his eyes. He needs a dye pretty soon, but he won’t be able to get it, he knows. “Listen, I’ll see if my ma’ll watch Ems. She wanted to see her. If anything, I’ll stop by for a little.”

“Fine,” Louis groans, but giddy mirth is heard clearly.

“We’re going to Nanny’s now?” Avery asks when he hangs up, hopping down to stand next to him. Niall takes advantage of the moment, quickly props his mobile’s camera and takes the picture; Avery’s wrapped around his leg, blue eyes focused on him with the prettiest pout on her lips.

“About to in a little, gonna call Baba, though. Wanna talk to him when I’m done?”

“Yes!” she claps once, skipping out of the room with Niall tagging along.

Zayn picks up on the second ring.

“Hello?”

Music’s turned down, a soulful playlist muted into the background. He’s been staying at his apartment, a place he never managed to put back in the market after he and Niall officially moved in together a few years ago.

Niall wonders what he’s been doing there, can’t bring himself to ask.

“Hi. Zayn.” He scratches his knee, the scar’s been bothering him lately. “Um.”

“How are you?” Zayn asks. He sounds out of breath, like he’s jumping over obstacles but trying to converse at the same time. “I haven’t, um. We haven’t talked since that night and.”

“Right, yeah. Uh, I’m okay,” he lightly shrugs, leaning against the hallway. Avery went and put on a movie, Niall hears. Less than ten minutes will be played, though. “Don’t feel any different. Yet, I guess.”

“I still don’t believe it,” Zayn mutters, breathes through the line. “I still don’t.”

“Well,” Niall chuckles, drumming a hand over his stomach. It’s so fucking scary. And he still doesn’t know how he’s going to do it; if he can.

But he will. And Niall’s the optimistic shit that believes he’ll make it.

“Nothing I can say to change your mind?” Zayn tries again. “Heard I’m very persuasive.”

“Hmm,” Niall smirks. “I’ll keep that noted for next time.”

“Next time,” Zayn drawls. There’s no humor in his voice. “I’m trying to be a good sport here when I’m scared shitless, actually. Couldn’t sleep at all, Ni, I’m actually really terrified.”

“Don’t be. Everything’s going to be fine.” He thumps his head against the wall. “I believe that, I do,” he whispers. “I need you to do that for me, too.”

“This is all my fault. Please know I love you so much.”

“Please?” Niall continues. He hates the way Zayn’s voice sounds final. “Can you do that for me? Think you said you had a lot to make up, right?”

Zayn sighs, tries to sound fed up when he’s just really horribly nervous.

“Yeah, I’ll.” There’s a jagged pause, Niall pictures him gesturing wildly with his hands. “I’ll try, we’ll see.”

“Thanks, man, I’m so assured.”

Zayn laughs, laughs shortly but it’s real. Niall grips the phone tighter, doesn’t know Zayn’s wiping at his face with shame.

“Have you told anyone?” he whispers. Niall pictures him leaning against another hallway. It’s so quiet.

“No,” he shakes his head, bites his lip and looks at his stomach. It’s getting there. “Don’t think anyone will congratulate me this time ‘round,” he smirks.

It’s one of those rare moments he likes to pretend Zayn and he are okay, at least not so bitter. He’s past convincing himself he’d do fine without him; he can’t get over a love he had for years, no matter how much he wishes.

“I don’t care about anyone else,” Zayn says, a bothered lilt to his tone.

Niall nods, nods towards the rug beneath his feet. Nods when Avery comes by to ask again if they’re leaving, before she saunters away. Nods at his stomach where a child’s forming.

“Are you going to Lou’s tonight? That’s why I called.”

“Uh,” Zayn breathes. God, Niall misses him. “Don’t think so. I was gonna ask you in a bit, actually. Would’ve stayed with Ave if you were. Wanna have a chill night with her.”

“Go,” Niall insists, surprising himself. There's a shrill going off in his head. Screaming with a surplus of persistence he didn't know his body could muster. _Shut your fucking mouth, you hypocrite_. Then there's the rest of him, the part he's always listened to, reminding him that Zayn did him dirty. Not Louis. And Louis loves Zayn more than most people, would still want him there and Niall. Niall really can't do that to Louis. Neither himself nor the man silent on the line.

Fuck Zayn but Niall's not low enough to hurt everyone just because he has to deal with pain everyday.

Zayn doesn’t speak, nor mutters acknowledgement so Niall continues. “I’m going. Ma wants to see Ave so I was gonna drop her off. You,” he debates, feels a knife threatening him, ordering him to stop, “You should come. It’s Lou’s birthday, he’ll appreciate it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he wobbily laughs, feels younger all of a sudden; not a grown married man with a daughter. “I’m inviting you, aren’t I?”

“Feel like this is a trick,” Zayn chuckles, tension pouring through his voice. “’M already by the skin of my teeth with you, babe.”

“Well, that’s your fault,” Niall reminds. It's quiet in a way that only screams _Zayn cheated_ ;  _Zayn cheated on you and your daughter, your whole fucking family_. “I’ll see you there, if y'go,” he ends, not thinking of his words before they’re out. Avery will talk to him some other time.

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees just as fast. And that’s that.

 

Zayn’s there before Niall, surprisingly early for himself. They do stay clear of each other for as long as possible, indirectly at opposite groups. They’re not together, Niall makes that perfectly clear. Because when they do intersect, he has enough composure to smile, a little offset tilt to his mouth that only Zayn picks up on. He also pats his shoulder, moves before the tan man can react and gape at such an unplaced greeting between them. And maybe they do have eyes on them and sure, they weren’t as subtle as they agreed. But it’s one of Niall’s _better_ days so far, and staying close to Zayn for too long might affect that.

Niall isn’t strong enough to test that theory.

No one calls them out, though, fortunately. And no one’s downright rude to Zayn. Niall appreciates that more than anything. (Their situation is just that; theirs.) But Liam’s still resistant, which boggles Niall as much as everyone else. No one understood Liam better than Zayn, and the same with him.

He was the one who convinced Zayn to visit Niall so early during his pregnancy with Avery. Zayn’s words steered him towards making the next move with Danielle. Liam always filled the silence when Zayn couldn’t muster up a passable answer during an interview. Zayn helped Liam get over the hate Sophia was getting in the beginning of their relationship. Liam was the one Niall went to whenever he and Zayn were arguing. And no matter how unhealthy it was bringing a third party into a relationship, Liam always knew what Zayn was thinking or feeling when the tan man couldn’t explain it himself. So it’s so uncomfortable when Liam barely wants to return Zayn’s hello.

It’s Louis’ birthday, Niall tries to remind himself. And it looks like he’s having a good time.

Harry took charge of everything; Niall thoroughly believes _everything_.

There are a variety of snacks to pick on and even mulitple intricate dishes that look too good to even consume. There are more drinks than Niall can count (and he tried) and not all of them have alcohol; virgin piña coladas and enough caffeinated soft drinks to power an all-night aquarium.

That cracks Harry up when Niall tells him.

Everyone’s friendly enough, and the location is secluded so that no paps are spotted until hours later. They can’t enter without given a name on the list, though. Haha.

“Okay, people!” Louis calls, dramatic hands in the air to get everyone’s attention. The current song playing is lowered, thudding in the floor beneath them. “I need everyone’s attention!”

“You have it.”

“Making sure,” Louis clips, smiling mockingly. He clears his throat, rests his weight on one hip. “We are all gathered here today for the celebration of one mighty hero, a legend among legends, his story that’s passed through generations, a tale that surpasses time itself.”

“Mate, you’re drunk.”

“Time itself!” he repeats louder, blinking slowly. A few guests laugh, chuckles rumbling through the crowd. Louis smiles along. “But seriously, guys. Thank you all for coming. I’m sure you had other plans on the eve of Christmas, a night meant to be spent with loved ones and family,” he speaks evenly, “but my birthday’s more important.”

He’s really drunk, but he gets his gratitude across, gives a heartfelt and obnoxious thanks to his husband whose laugh is heard tenfold from everywhere. And as he concludes his eloquent-slash-horrid speech, shots are offered to everyone.

Niall... it's difficult denying it; when he’s always the first drinking and/or pushing everyone else to their level of inebriation. Tonight, though, he hasn’t touched a cup of alcohol. He’s slightly tempted; but doesn’t want to drink after spending the first few months drunk each night. He’s not stupid, either. Niall knows that’s worsened everything.

So when everyone downs theirs, he merely raises his, doesn’t make eye contact and walks to the garbage disposal set at the end the of hors d’oeuvres table, spills it over before placing the glass on the table. He thinks no one’s looking, so when he turns and finds Zayn eyeing him, he freezes. Zayn’s hooded gaze is piercing, and with a curt nod he turns, drops his short glass in the trash can perched next to him. Niall breathes again, turns before Zayn catches his eye.

Better he caught him than anyone else, he believes.

He’s known he was pregnant for a little over a month. Mia stops by every other week unless there’s an emergency and so far everything’s as normal as it should be, running its course the way it’s planned.

Niall lives for this, revives with the normalcy of it all though nothing is.

“Mate,” Harry calls, Liam following behind him. The music's soft now, slowly getting quieter with each pulse. “Thanks for coming!” he exclaims, gripping Niall in the tightest bearhug he’s gotten all night. Niall pats his back, runs his other hand down the back of Harry’s damp shirt. He worked his ass off for the night.

“’Course, Haz. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Mmhmm,” he smirks, not believing him. “Lou told me it took Ave for some convincing.”

“What can I say?” Niall shrugs. “My daughter’s a smart negotiator.”

Harry laughs while Liam walks closer to get his presence known, two beer bottles in hand.

“Here,” he offers Niall one, a tight smile on his face. “You’ve earned it.”

Niall twitches, feels the nerves through his left hand acting up.

“Nah,” he shakes his head, too quick for casual. “Nah, Li. Thanks, though, I’m good.”

“No, I insist,” he continues, lifting the bottle for emphasis.

“Don’t wanna be drunk,” Niall tries, swallowing around a laugh. “Gonna pick up Ems after here.”

“One drink won’t hurt,” he mutters, eyeing Niall sternly. “Go on, I didn’t see you take a drink all night. Threw that shot away, didn’t you?”

Oh

Shit

“What?” Harry pouts, looking between them, oblivious to Liam’s appraising glare and Niall’s pleading eyes. “He didn’t drink that group shot? Aw, Niall, why not?”

“Wasn’t feeling up for it,” Niall rushes, going over to grab the outstretched bottle around its neck. It’s cold and wet in his grip; he’d be lying if he said a little taste didn’t seem good, but his baby outweighs that completely. “Cheers,” he nods, going to walk away when Liam stops him.

“Cheers,” Liam repeats, lifting his bottle. He gulps a mouthful, wipes his mouth and motions for Niall to do the same.

He knows.

He must know. Liam’s never this persistent, never this adamant.

Niall’s never been so out of his element.

“I don’t want any,” he finalizes, placing it on the table. “I’m gonna go, though, guys. Have an early night in.”

“Drink it.”

“No.”

“Come on, Niall.”

“Yeah, Ni,” Harry pouts, so damn tipsy. “Just drink a little.”

“I said no, I’m leaving.”

“Niall,” Liam laughs, pressing his own drink to Niall’s chest when he goes to walk away. “Bro, a sip.”

“Liam, please. Just drop it.”

“Yeah, drop it,” Zayn says out of nowhere, fucking appearing out of thin air.

“Oh my fucking God,” Niall groans, rubbing his face and turning around until he finds a way out of all of this.

There is none.

“Think I was talking to Niall, mate,” Liam tries to threaten. But he’s not a mean guy, can’t be vicious unless the situation demands it. And it doesn’t.

But Zayn?

“Yeah, and I think he said he was leaving,” he deadpans. It’s so uncomfortable Harry sobers up, blinks his eyes clear until the dilemma is reflected through them.

“Zayn, come on. Not tonight,” Niall shakes his head, putting his jacket on. He doesn’t get farther than fixing the collar.

“Drink,” Liam orders, holding it out again. “Just drink.”

Liam’s so disappointed, minutely shaking his head at Niall.

Niall can’t swallow, can’t unclog his throat from all the anxiety Zayn’s causing him to feel with how angry he looks.

Zayn’s fidgeting in his skin, knees jumping with prickled skin. He can’t keep his glare off Liam.

Harry doesn’t have any more nails left to chew off.

“You know why I can’t drink,” Niall hisses, forgetting about everyone else. “Fuck you, Liam, you know why I can’t drink and you’re shit right now.”

“I’m shit?” he jumps back. “I’m the shit one after everything I did for you the past few months?”

“I’m _so_ grateful, you know that!” Niall’s voice rises. “Don’t use that against me, all right? But this, seriously? I don’t know how you know, but _dammit_ , Li.”

“It’s Zayn’s?”

“What do you expect?” Zayn butts in, rough pull in the middle of his brows. “We’re still married, bro, don’t talk like I’m not here.”

“You were married when you cheated.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Harry releases harshly. “Seriously? This is Lou’s party, what the fuck has you all like this?”

"Haz, I didn't tell Li, or _anyone_ but Z, but. Like, y'know I'm pregnant now and," he shrugs, so much anguish fizzing around his frame. "Haz, I'm having a baby and. And you know, no one knows yet but us and if you could just--"

Nothing's ringing.

It’s so quiet Niall hears the shrilling chime only complete silence could bring.

The music isn’t even on.

“All right,” Louis calls, bringing a semblance of control with his voice. “All right, guys, thank you for the gifts and free alcohol. But you gotta go, party’s over! Don’t have to go home, but gotta get the hell outta here, right?”

“Let’s go,” Zayn whispers, gently gripping Niall’s elbow and steering him towards the exit.

“No,” Louis calls towards them. They turn around to Louis shaking a finger at them. “No no no. You two, inside there right now. Got it?” he points at a room, closed to the side and empty.

Zayn sucks his teeth, goes to leave when Niall stops him. This was bound to happen, they were going to confront them someday. Maybe Niall believed that someday would never come, or at least not so soon. But it’s here and his closest friends are all falling apart so suddenly and

He’s having a baby. Nothing tops that.

They’re left alone in the room for a few minutes. Niall sits because there's nothing else to do, really. Zayn tries to comfort him. He rubs his back and Niall flinches away. He tries to utter the smallest apology and Niall's glare alone shuts him up. He only looks at Zayn long enough that he gets the message. Other than that, Niall doesn't notice his presence

“I’m sorry,” Zayn finally says. “I can’t say that enough, baby. I’m so fucking sorry. I--" he stops, blinks and looks at his hands when Niall continues to ignore him. ”I don't know what to do. Just please tell me what to do. Anything, whatever it is I swear to God--"

  
Niall wants to say it’s fine, though it’s not. He also wants to tell Zayn to fuck off for ruining his life, fuck off and don't even think of seeing their daughter again because you fucked her over too. "You fucked everything up, you know," he does eventually settle on, because he has every right to voice this; only him. "You really made a mess, Zayn. I can't help you this time. And I won't help you this time. You're on your own."

He's still looking away so he doesn't see Zayn's face. Maybe it's disbelief. Maybe it's despair or even apathy. Zayn doesn't care. Zayn didn't care when he did that. So Niall doesn't care, either.

Louis comes in, loudly calling out behind him for Liam and Harry to follow. And when they’re sat and Louis’ briskly walking back and forth for a while, Niall breaks the silence.

“Louis--”

“What the fuck happened back there?” Louis roughly asks, pointing a sharp look at Niall. Niall immediately shuts up. “Why is it that today, of all days, I hear that shit?”

Niall bites his lip.

“What the fuck happened, that I sobered up so quickly, Niall? Want to explain what I _think_ I heard out there? Want to say something?”

“Louis, calm down,” Zayn eases.

“Zayn, shut up, all right? ‘Cause you’re the bad guy in every angle of this shit so you shut the fuck up.”

Zayn does shut up, only for the pale hand gripping his forearm tightly, silently begging him to stand down.

“This is all gonna get really ugly, really fast, if someone doesn’t start talking.”

“He’s pregnant, nothing to say,” Liam argues, throwing a hand in the air. It smacks his thigh painfully on its way down. “I mean, the signs were there for so long, am I the only one who noticed?”

“Well, sorry, mate. I don’t think I’m sick enough to _want_ to put pieces together that my best friend is fucking pregnant. _Again_.”

“’S not being sick, it’s being aware! The hell, who knows how far he goddamn is in this shit!”

“He’s pregnant and you’re arguing over it?” Harry butts in, looking at everyone with disgust. “Is this the main concern here?”

“Oh, shut it, don’t be the voice of reason now.”

“Li, _you_ fucking shut it,” Louis screams. “What the fuck is going on?”

They don't argue. They bicker. They sometimes get under each other's skins and always make fun of Simon together. But this, this isn't something they're used to. Which is why everything's fizzing out of control, escaping through the tiny sliver of the opened bottle cap Niall's trying to turn it back in place, seal tightly until the compressed matter of it all stays in place. It's chaotic because they've never had to seriously argue, never had to tweak a reassuring hand to calm the mood or knew what to say because this  _never happens._ They've never learned how they reacted when stressed to the point of lashing and Niall. Niall's trying so hard not to make it all worse than what it all already is.

Zayn opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get to talk. Niall won’t let him, only pinches his skin more.

“I’m pregnant,” Niall reasons, shutting everyone the fuck up. He’s near the front of the room, sat down next to Zayn. He only sees Louis from here, Liam and Harry silent behind him. “I’m four months pregnant and I only found out last month, that’s all there is.”

Louis’ face is still a scowl, red all around.

“I’m really having a baby, guys. Like, I. I saw it, I felt it. I feel it now. I’m.” He swallows. “This is happening, out of the fucking blue, honestly. I’m really fucking scared, and I know you are, too.” Louis looks like he’s falling, despair clinging on his every feature. “But it’s here, and I was going to tell you, swear to God. I just didn’t know how.”

“Please say you’re joking,” Louis tries to laugh, puts a hand over his mouth when he breathes in. “Niall, this is a joke. Fuck you, you’re joking. You’re shit and you’re lying!”

“I’m not.”

“Fuck you!”

Harry’s there, holding Louis back with an arm over his chest.

“Lou, calm down!” he shouts, breaking everywhere. Louis pulls away, ready to scream at him when Harry holds him down gently. “This is bigger than all of us, babe, it is, but you need to calm down,” he soothes when Louis wants to lash at something.

“I don’t believe you,” Louis whimpers, tears brimming his eyes. “No,” he shakes his head, “No you’re not fucking pregnant.”

Niall nods when he looks to the floor. He didn’t suspect anything else, really.

So he shrugs off his jacket, shakes the cold away and lifts his shirt up, holding it over his chest.

There’s definitely something there, a little thing making his stomach jut out. His belly button is already flattening, the dark line stretching down under it. He’s _pregnant_ , without a doubt, having a _baby_.

Louis covers his mouth with both hands, trips back into Harry who’s looking at the taut skin disbelievingly.

Liam’s moved, walked up until stopping in front of him, biting his lip in agony.

Zayn has his head in his hands, pulling the hairs before looking at the swollen skin again, repeating this cycle until Niall pulls his shirt down.

“I’m sure everyone knows by now,” he speaks after too long. “I wouldn’t be surprised if a mag picks it up. But I wanna let you know, the ones here, that I didn’t hide this out of spite. There’s nothing to actually look at that’s hopeful, I know. But it’s out there now.”

Niall regrets a lot of things, at the moment.

He suddenly regrets the song he chose to sing on the X Factor, then maybe his acceptance wouldn’t have been so slim. There’s the time he dyed his hair violet for the fans that he stills shudders at. He never bought his mam the purse she’s wanted for months and when he searched for it it wasn’t selling anymore. He regrets missing that last minute Eagles’ concert when he was due for a photoshoot, only for it to be canceled on his way over.

He regrets this. He regrets everything.

“You’re not,” Louis fumbles for words, pressing a shaking hand on his forehead as he looks down. “You’re legit, right now?”

Niall has the courtesy to politely laugh and shrug lazily.

Liam sighs, empties his lungs and slumps in his seat.

“What the fuck, Zayn,” he says after inhaling. “What the fuck.”

“It’s not his fault,” Niall snaps to him, surprising everyone. “It’s--” He still doesn’t believe Zayn. Might not ever believe him again, but he believes Zayn wouldn’t directly put his life in danger, either. “It’s no one’s fault.”

“Yeah,” Liam dismisses, standing up. His back’s to Niall when he rubs his neck, silently conversing with Harry as everyone else keep quiet.

“This isn’t good,” Harry says aloud after they finish. “Niall,” he scolds, a battle going over his face while he looks for words. “This won’t-- Like, you know what’s going to happen, right? You’re not.” He swallows, pushes the hair off his forehead and keeps his hand on top of his head. “Jesus, this isn’t good!”

“It’s not bad, either,” he argues with a moderate tone. He doesn’t want anything else to escalate. “Can we just, _not_ make a big deal out of this? For the meantime, please?” A fuzzy feeling is settling in his stomach. “Put it bluntly, I can die, I know. No one knows that more than me. But if I’m okay with the facts you should be, too.”

Liam opens his mouth again.

“Liam, I get it,” Niall rushes. “This is all fucking crazy, but. When I found out, and Mia offered a, an _abortion_ , I just,” he shakes his head. “No. No, I’m not killing my child. I wouldn’t do that to Ems, I’m not doing that to this one, either. ‘S only fair.”

“Oh my fucking God,” Louis gives for the first time. His hands immediately cover his face, trying to stop his tears though his shoulders don’t stop shaking. “Oh my God, Niall, no. No, please. This isn’t happening.” He’s crying, shamelessly crying. It switches something in the room.

Harry hugs him, buries him into his chest and doesn’t say anything. Liam walks towards the leaning table and rests his fist on the surface, punches it once in between Louis’ hushed sobs. Zayn bites his lip, tenses his jaw beyond exhaustion to force his throat from closing, blinks repeatedly and looks at no one when he sniffs and wipes his nose.

Niall only wraps his arms around himself, wants to protect the innocent thing that’s already receiving negativity.

After a bit, after everything’s said and nothing else can alter the mood, they leave. They've always hugged, this cheesy unnecessary group hug Niall or Harry always called on because traditions, they're keeping it. But this time Liam rubs Niall's neck in farewell and Louis' too frayed to cooperate and Harry's too busy trying to keep him pieced together. So they leave and Niall feels empty in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with the fact he hasn't eaten in hours.

Niall leaves feeling empty, like the life inside of him suddenly isn’t there and nothing can make him feel any lower.

It’s bitter cold, the kind of weather that freezes lips and causes muscles to jump while walking.

Niall can’t feel a thing.

“We’ll go pick up Ave now. I’ll have someone drop off your car tomorrow,” Zayn says to him, attempting rubbing comfort between Niall’s shoulders while he only follows Zayn; he’s allowing himself a moment to just give up.

Zayn’s car warms up quickly, heater blasting away the frigid air.

Niall shakes in the passenger seat.

“Hey,” Zayn mutters, leaning over until Niall looks at him. “Hey, you’re okay. Fuck what happened back there. I got you, you’re gonna be fine.”

Niall pouts, nods before looking away.

He doesn’t cry, but roughly wipes his face when his tears don’t stop.

They only continue, to the point Zayn offers to go inside Maura’s house to pick up their daughter who fell asleep hours ago.

He puts her to bed, makes sure Niall stays in his room.

Niall hears Zayn shuffle her blankets away, the peeling of her dress being taken off and the folding of the sheet over her frail body. It’s the first time Niall can think of that he’s not kissing her good night. He only has enough energy to stay awake when he falls back on the mattress, closing his eyes and breathing evenly.

“Ni?”

Zayn’s by the door when Niall looks, thumping the side of his fist against the doorframe. He doesn’t respond, so Zayn only enters.

He sits next to Niall, looks down his body and curves a hand around his waist, pushing the shirt up.

Niall wants this distraction more than anything.

“Zayn,” he warns though, logic over impulse. “Zayn, stop.”

“I just want to see something,” Zayn whispers, pushing the cloth until Niall’s stomach is in view. Niall can see the rise of his belly when he lifts his head. “Can I?” Zayn asks, a timid hand over the skin. Niall doesn’t answer, so with a sigh a warm’s hand pressed right above Niall’s hip, curving over the tiny swell.

Niall inhales through his nose, closes his eyes and turns his face to the blanket to cover himself. Only he’s practically bare and he and Zayn did honestly everything in this exact spot and his hand is so fucking hot and firm on his skin and

Niall needs him, pathetically needs him.

“I’m tired,” he slurs. The fuzzy feeling in his stomach is still there. He hates the effect Zayn has on him. If he so much as moves his hand the few inches lower Niall doesn’t know how resistant he’d get. He doesn’t know anything when it comes to Zayn.

“So sleep,” Zayn offers, pulling his shirt back down and standing up.

Zayn doesn’t leave.

Niall doesn’t have the strength to kick him out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i found out the correct tag for this kind of non-au fic is Alternate Reality. coollll. and i also added the Medical Inaccuracies tag bc i'm not a doctor and will without a doubt get things wrong. but for the sake of this story let's pretend my gibberish makes sense :)))) but if something is hilariously wrong don't be afraid to let me know. i don't wanna sound dumb and that's more likely to happen than not.  
> i also found out according to a tumblr post, based on their zodiac signs, niall is a sub and zayn's a dom. hmm. for someone who mostly writes bottom!niall i'm actually a bottom!zayn fanatic, weird ik. so this piece of information was a bit upsetting.  
> i thought i was done the next chapter and i just realized, like two minutes ago, that i'm not. and i have two essays to write on top of that. but there will be a chapter next week, i just don't know if it's going to be split in half.  
> i hope you like this chapter. (i think i say that a lot but i really mean it) and i love you all xx thanks for sticking with my gibberish writing haha means a lot xx

“Ems,” Niall greets, nosing her hair while she sleeps. It’s ten in the fucking morning on Christmas and she’s still asleep. “Merry Christmas, princess!” he hushly cheers, hugging her to him.

She hums, turns and wraps an arm halfway around his waist. Her hand only reaches the jut of his hip.

“Mer’ Chrissm’, Daddy,” she slurs, slumbering through sleep. Niall laughs, pulls the blanket away from her face shyly.

“I think Santa visited, Ems! Don’t you wanna see what he left you?”

“Daddy, I’m sleeping,” she grumbles, curling into herself with hair all over her face. Niall tries to pluck the thick pieces away but it’s all knotted up.

There’s a noise of pots in the kitchen, the fridge door being shut and Niall gives a fake gasp.

“What was that?” he whispers, blue eyes wide and mouth dropped open. Avery opens a matching eye, glare on full display. The ruckus continues. “You hear that?”

She sits up, wipes her face and gasps also when she hears a known whistle tuning a song.

“Baba?” she asks, blue eyes frozen in shock. She gets up before Niall can answer.

“Baba, is that you?” she asks louder, making her way down the steps quicker than usual. “Baba, you’re really here?”

Niall hears Zayn hum cluelessly as he follows after her. She’s already at the bottom.

“Is that my girl?” he genuinely asks. Niall can see him coming from the kitchen doorway, sweater zipped up with loose sweats. “Did I hear my baby girl?” he smiles, already kneeling down and opening his arms when she falls into them, burying her face in his neck.

“Ah, it _is_ her! Merry Christmas, sunshine!” he mumbles between kisses to her hair, standing up to full height and holding her weight with an arm around her bottom. “Baba missed you. Did you miss me, too?”

“I missed you so much,” she sobs and

She’s crying?

“Ave?” Zayn asks, pulling back to look at her. She only holds onto him tighter. “Sweetie, you okay? What’s wrong?”

“I missed you,” she cries. “I asked Santa to bring you back and he did,” she continues.

“Oh, babe,” Zayn painfully laughs, petting her frazzled hair down. “I never went anywhere. Don’t cry, you’re making Baba sad.”

“I’m sorry,” she hiccups, pulling back to wipe her face. “I ju-- just love you. I’m so happy right now, merry Christmas, Baba.”

Niall’s standing by the foot of the steps, watching Zayn wipe Ave’s tears away and tell her something. She nods, hugs him again and doesn’t let go as he rubs her back.

A side of Zayn always comes out in front of her. He’s a whole new nurturing passionate person; a side Niall's never seen of him before her, ever.

Zayn doesn’t thoroughly celebrate the holiday, either; just does for Niall’s and his daughter’s sake, Niall knows.

They spent Eid home in the beginning of the year. Niall offered to take him out, would’ve asked Trisha or Maura to watch Ave to take Zayn on a nice intimate date. But Zayn politely declined and just wanted to spend time there, with them, just the three of them and be happy. Which didn’t _completely_ go as planned when his parents and sisters and nieces and nephews stopped by out of nowhere. But Niall appreciated it, he loved them. So he helped Trisha in the kitchen and Zayn talked with Yaser while Avery sat in her Dada’s lap; she loves her grandfather. And Zayn smiled so much in one day.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

“Go clean your teeth, okay, baby? Baba’s not going anywhere. I’m gonna make breakfast and if you’re a good girl I’ll even give you rasher.” Another sacrifice he’s made for his family.

“Okay,” she sniffs, hugging his leg one last time before going upstairs again. Zayn’s eyes are smeared red.

“She just woke up?” he wobbily asks, like that’s the answer to her breakdown.

“Yeah,” Niall laughs, rubbing his forehead when he clears his throat. “Yeh, just woke her up.”

Zayn nods in understanding, rubs his chin and leaves it at that. Before Niall reacts he’s walking over to him, and he only has enough time to lock in place and look up when Zayn hugs him. It’s just a simple touch, a gesture they’ve shared in front of millions and in an empty room. They’re not putting a front, this time. Correction, Niall’s not. Because their offset hug at Ave’s birthday was for the guests.

This one is simply for them; theirs. So Niall hugs him as well, needs this stability for the day, forever; the fuzz in his stomach doesn’t go away. Zayn’s never cold, even in the middle of a mild snowstorm outside with a thin sweater he’s warm as he hugs Niall to him, like he’s trying to secrete the warmth on him to pass to Niall, like he wants to warm inside of him too, where their baby’s nursing.

“Merry Christmas, Ni,” Zayn tries, and Niall would cry with the strenuous effort Zayn’s putting at trying to settle everything. Make everything easier than what it is.

Damn him. Damn you, Zayn.

“Merry Christmas,” he pats his back, moving away before Zayn gets comfortable.

 

It’s a normal Christmas, where they spend the day home. But nothing’s normal, and Niall has to constantly remind himself that he can’t sit on Zayn’s lap if he wants to. He can’t lean over Ems in between them to peck his lips, smile into the kiss before they snog lazily, a bit too pronounced with their daughter sat there. He can’t give subtle bed eyes or lick his lips when Zayn looks or bends down provocatively at an opportunity given. He can’t even smile lovingly at him, can’t give his husband a knowing smile that only grows when Zayn looks just as enamored as he feels.

He can’t do any of this. And Christmas easily and quickly goes to hell.

He calls his mam, texts his father and talks to Greg and Theo on the phone for a little. He does text the boys a merry christmas, hope youre spending a good day with the fam! They reply a little later, Harry sending one for the both of them and Liam keeping his short but heartfelt.

Niall just wants to kiss his husband really bad and he can’t do that.

They give Avery her gifts after breakfast, her young instincts kicking in with the nutrients as she jumps in her seat and eyes the lit up tree set by the front door. Most of the gifts are hers, anyway. The few others for family.

Avery lights up brighter than the whole room with each gift, gapes each time she turns around and finds her pile growing taller than her. But honestly, everything’s taller than her. She’s the happiest when she unwraps a tiny present and it turns out to be the case of sea monkeys she’s wanted, the kit she needs and extra included.

“Baba! You got it?”

“I did,” he smirks, his nostrils flaring with glee.

“Heeeey,” Niall whines with a chuckle, “We agreed we weren’t buying her that.”

“Well,” Zayn coyly shrugs. “How could I tell a face like that no?”

“Traitor,” Niall playfully seethes. Zayn winks at him. And

And they’re caught in a moment, an innocent little thing Niall doesn’t want to ever name. Zayn doesn’t look away, only the grin on his face grows softer, lessens until it’s just two men staring at each other from across the room.

But, right. He is a traitor.

Niall turns away, looks to Avery who’s humming to herself and swaying the box in her hands.

“Where are your gifts?” she proceeds to ask, sitting on the floor and looking at each of them.

“I got everything I need right here,” Zayn gives, gesturing with his hands at the room. Niall only bites back the tail of his scoff.

“We’ll give each other the gifts later on, princess,” he settles on, cringes when he realizes after what a lie that is.

“Oh,” she prolongs, nodding slowly. “Oh, okay. Like tonight?”

Zayn freezes. “Like what, Ave?”

“Well, last Christmas, you gave each other gifts at night in your room. What was it, Baba? I was already sleeping--”

“No, not tonight,” Niall interrupts. He wants to clear everything up. “Not like that, Ems.”

She looks at the toy in her hands, shrugs and stands up to go to Zayn. Zayn easily sets her on his lap, helps her open the package as she says the names she’s going to name each monkey.

Zayn only nods, bites his mouth close and only manages to look at Niall once.

Only once.

 

Niall remembers their wedding day clearly, set at the last minute with a five-month old behind them. They were so young, two young boys who embarrassingly giggled through their vowels. Zayn didn’t mind a little city hall visit, didn’t mind just the one paper as proof of their marriage. But Niall kind of wanted a little ceremony, something small and pretty and really emotional. And Zayn was all for it after the suggestion.

They bought their own house, _their_ house, a cute place they picked out together. It was the first time they decorated a place, too; because all past flats were propped by interior designers while they were away on tour, living on buses and hotels. Zayn was so fucking happy, nearly squealing with the notion he had a whole home ready to be tainted with his ideas and he had so many plans. Polished floorboards, intricate matching furniture, pristine kitchen counters. Niall only wanted pretty curtain rods, spent bitter visits picking them himself.

On the final day, on that day they stood and drank in the view around them, they looked at each other, beamed and laughed. They laughed into their hands and clapped with their free one because they were really fucking doing this.

Avery was ten months old, the evening spent on a couch with an interesting program about penguins Zayn wouldn’t let Niall change.

She was so fat, a fat ball on Niall’s lap. She clutched her tiny hands around his thumbs with a tight grip as he held onto her forearms with long fingers. He liked making her stand up on her short chunky legs, the way her feet lost stability on his thighs and she wobbled out of balance. She would smile when Niall made her dance, shaking her arms to jut in the air and side to side.

“Babe,” Niall called to Zayn, laughing as he leaned to him. “Babe, look at this.”

Niall shook her arms, as if she was doing the shimmy. It made her shake her head side to side, smiling big until she got dizzy and tilted in surprise, coming back to focus when she steadied herself. They laughed, guffawed adoringly at the way she grew dizzier.

“Lemme get her,” Zayn chuckled, grabbing her to lay on his lap with her meaty legs stretched over his chest. His hands wrapped around her heels, stopping her feet from kicking his chin as he blew over her face. It made her gasp, blinked tears away and laughed, _literally_ laughed with loud cherubic giggles towards Zayn. Her father laughed, lips stretched in glee as chuckles of his own spilled out.

“Still looks a lot like you,” Niall smiled while resting his head back, looking over at them.

“Hm? Nah, she reminds me of you,” Zayn said, sitting her up and supporting her back. She had a habit of babbling; like, incessantly babbling more than usual for a baby. She’d clap often and slapped her legs and accidentally scratched herself.

She was so precious.

“Lies,” Niall hummed, covering her face with an open palm playfully.

“Seriously,” Zayn proceeded, turning Avery over to sit on his lap facing Niall. “She has your eyes, your cute chin. Her left dimple is yours. Her heart-shaped face.”

“I do not have that!”

“You do, babe. It’s cute,” he winked, facing his daughter again where she stared at them mindlessly. “You can’t deny she has your laugh,” he continued.

“She has your hair,” Niall pointed, curling a piece of her black hair between his fingers. “She has your complexion. And your eyelashes.”

“She has your appetite.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Niall laughed. Zayn ate just as much as him on most days.

Zayn laughed along, brought a hand to wipe his nose between his fits. Avery must’ve noticed the mirth on their faces, because with one glance she was beaming too, bouncing and flailing hands around for their attention.

Niall took the moment to smile at her, turned to find Zayn cooing with a finger tapping her little nose. It was all really beautiful, a bit too beautiful. Only five months of marriage tucked away and a child twice that trailing behind and Niall held an unsettling feeling that yeah, maybe it _was_ too beautiful, too good to be true, he laughed to himself. He wasn’t naïve, and maybe for a moment he wished he was.

He was too caught up in a thought to realize Zayn trying to grasp his attention, tilting his head lower until he was in Niall’s line of sight.

“Love, you good?”

“We doing this?” Niall laughed, stopped himself; tried to before chuckling again with the back of his palm smacked against his mouth. “I mean,” he shook his head, scratching a strand off his forehead. “Well, yeah. We really doing this?”

Zayn blinked, smirk growing slowly.

“’Course, babe. Doing this for the longrun.”

{~*~}

Niall still has that fuzzy feeling in his stomach that’s not going away. So he calls Harry.

Harry’s the only one who won’t hesitate at a midnight call, right after Christmas night. But Zayn and Avery fell asleep hours ago in the living room and Niall couldn’t drive himself if he wanted to.

He doesn’t want to feel like he owes Zayn anything, either.

“Mate?”

“Harry,” Niall huffs, trying to calm his breathing. “Harry, I. Um. Sorry for--” He can’t even breathe correctly. “For calling late. I can’t, you know I don’t really--”

“Niall, what’s going on?”

“My stomach, bro. I--” There’s a splitting in his ribcage, a phantom limb trying to dislodge from his torso. He doesn’t scream, groans and tries to slump but another splinter shatters somewhere in his left side. “Fuck, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Okay,” Harry tries to settle. “Okay, you need something? What you need? I’m leaving now, all right?”

“Can you take me to the A&E?” he sighs, wiping his drenched forehead for the third time in seconds. “Can’t fucking breathe right now, I’m breaking or something, swear to God.”

“All right, just. . . stay on the line, what's going on? Talk to me, can you do that? Where’s Zayn?”

“Yeah, I can talk,” Niall whimpers, doesn’t say anything else. “Harry, I don’t know what the fuck’s going on, this hurts like fuck.”

“I’m in the car now. Just. . . fuck, I don’t know. Just stay on the line.”

 

Niall moans, grips the white blanket in his hand when the pain expands and stretches the skin of his torso outward.

They’re waiting for Mia to get there, the only certified doctor who has access to Niall’s records.

“Fuck,” he breathes when it fades, opens his eyes to the light above.

Harry’s still there, slumped in his seat with the biggest coat over his frame. Niall offered him the choice to leave, only needed to get dropped off since he couldn’t drive himself but Harry declined. Now his eyes are bloodshot and caffeine never did its purpose on his lithe body.

“Y’could’ve left,” Niall groans, faces the side with the back of his palm over his eyes.

“Not leaving you here alone.” Harry gets up and stands by Niall’s side, pushes his blonde-tipped bangs away from his face. “Where was Zayn?”

Niall swallows, shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk about that.

“How’s the. . . this, then?” Harry tries, gestures towards Niall’s stomach.

“Ha,” Niall smirks, lazily rolls his head up to peer where the gown is pulled tight over his belly. “Fucking killing me right now, seriously--” He clutches the blanket, curling and murmuring unplaced words to mute the agony slicing his spinal cord. Holy shit, he’s scared and in so much pain. “Harry, fuck. Oh my God, I’m gonna die right here.”

“No, you’re not,” Harry scolds, but he’s nervous and he can’t help Niall for the first time in his life. “C’mon, Ni, this is just like your knee. After that show when you had to take a breather, remember? Remember we talked until Lou arrived with your meds?”

Niall quickly nods, mutters yeah half-heartedly.

“This is just like that, no different. We’ll just talk it out. You hear me?”

“Not fucking deaf, you know.”

Harry smiles, nods because he got the reaction he sought for.

He goes around, sits by Niall’s feet and Niall’s eyes follow him.

“Can’t believe it, you know,” Harry points at his belly, eyes it. “You’re pregnant, again. Thought it’d be the other way, honestly,” he chuckles.

Niall smirks, furrows his eyebrows and exhales.

“Well,” he licks his lips, strains against the sudden pain before talking. “Zayn’s Y Chromosome isn’t altered, or he would’ve been a long time ago.” Harry laughs, and Niall laughs before shortly clutching his ribs, mouthing against the mattress under him for the worst thing ever felt.

“So that’s how it works?” Harry asks in an attempt to keep him talking. Niall tightly nods and Harry pouts. “That explains so much now. Louis’ going to be so disappointed.”

Niall laughs, looks like he’s crying with how taut his face muscles are acting to keep him from screaming.

“Sorry for the other night,” Harry murmurs, rubbing Niall’s side like that’ll help. “We were being arses. When really we were just scared as fuck. Especially Liam, he honestly thinks you’re his legit baby brother.”

“’S only fifteen days older than me,” Niall tries to joke, only he’s banging his fist against the bed’s railing and is humming over the snapping of his bones.

“Niall, we’re all fucking scared. I’ve never been so scared right now. _Look_ at you, you’re in so much pain and I can’t do anything, do you know how that makes me feel?”

“Wanna know how I feel?” Niall jokes, wiggling his eyebrows where only one’s in Harry’s view. “Feel like one of those alien shits is ripping through my chest.”

Harry opens his mouth to correct him when Mia rushes in, hair a mess and a white cloak over scruffy jeans and sandals.

“Got here as quick as I could,” she huffs, immediately going to the sink to clean her hands. “Niall, baby, what’s going on? Got a call at one in the morning and rushed over here.”

“Sorry,” Niall swallows, peers at her through hooded eyes. “Couldn’t--” He bites his tongue, exhales when it’s all too much. “I don’t know what’s going on, I’m so fucking scared.”

Mia hushes in, lays him down and proceeds to insert a needle through the vein on his left hand, telling him the drug will knock him out in a few minutes, that he won’t feel a thing while they try to find out what’s the problem.

He misses her telling Harry she’s never done anything like this before.

 

Hours, maybe even days, he’s not sure, later he blinks his eyes open, feels the dull press of his chest expanding with each breath. It’s cold where he’s laying and his body feels like he hasn’t moved in months.

Harry’s sleeping in a chair, neck in the most painful angle and beanie sliding off one side of his head.

The sun’s shining through the slanted blinds, a background beat signaling his heart rate as he tries to figure out what’s going on. He knows why he’s there, how he arrived and when Mia spoke to him. That’s it, though.

A few photos are propped in front of the headlight, emphasizing a mangled ribcage. He’s hoping that’s not his when Mia sits up from the seat to his left.

“Is that mine?” he croaks, weakly sitting up and trembling with the effort.

She sadly smiles, bites a corner of her lips before offering him coffee. He takes it. Decaf, she assures him.

“Morning, Niall. I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“Am I gonna die?” he asks, doesn’t bother holding back his pout, hears the rapid beat of his heart from the chart and he can’t die. No, he can’t. He can’t. He won’t.

“No, babe, you’re not dying,” she shakes her head. “But since you went with the bad news first, you might have to stay in the hospital for a few days.”

“Why?” he asks after sighing in relief. A part of him is rejoicing, filling with so much relief he’s scared what’ll happen if it spills over. But he’s mostly terrified, been permanently terrified for months.

“Okay," she starts, standing up. “Before you get confused, you know how the female body reacts when it tries to hold a baby, right?” Niall only blinks. “Well,” she sighs, moving her hands around as she speaks. “The internal organs and surrounding bone move to fit the baby. That’s the intestines and the kidney and the stomach and the liver, everything. Including the ribs, sternum, thoracic and lumbar vertebrae, etc. It’s in their DNA to shift while the placenta grows, hence no dilemma on this factor of the pregnancy.”

Niall nods slowly, drinks a sip and tries to chart this all in his head. She might as well be talking Mandarin. Niall’s scared he doesn’t know what’s going on in his body.

“Your body isn’t doing this,” she answers, points to a picture of a normal skeleton's torso. “This is how the ribs are supposed to look.” She points to the mangled one. Niall looks away. “This is how yours look.”

_So. I’m not going to die yet._

“But that wasn’t a problem with my first pregnancy.”

“The best solution I can give you for that is you were given a free pass. Imagine you were given a free pass for all the extra bits a male doesn’t have to hold a baby in them.”

“So. I’m not going to die yet. How do I tell my husband this? How--”

Zayn.

Fuck him.

But, Zayn and Avery. That's all that's in his head.

“What am I supposed to tell Zayn?” he chokes out, folds his shaking hands on his lap. He’s shivering with nerves and he’d honestly cry if he were alone.

“You’re not going to die,” she speaks, closer with a hand over both of his. “As long as you’re my patient, you’re not going to die. I’ve already started you on a new prescription while you were out.” She waits until he’s looking at her. “It focuses on needed estrogen levels to help balance the process. Only a handful of people in the world used this, a really small handful. Everyone’s different. But you’re a strong one, Niall.”

“Does this mean I’m gonna grow tits?” he frowns. It’s not even amusing, the diverted joke failing before it reached the air. “I don’t want to be a statistic. Holy fuck, I don’t want to die. Mia, don’t let me die. I’m so fucking scared, please don’t let this happen.”

“Hey!” she stops him, pulling his hands down from his face. “You’re not gonna die.” Niall’s shaking, suddenly coming to horrible grips of his situation, just how drastic this all is.

“I’m gonna. . .” he stutters, willing his hands to stop shaking. The coffee’s spilling over the edge. “I think I’ll just. . .”

What did he do to deserve this? What happened? What the fuck happened in the past that he’s given _this_? But no, no, no. The baby’s not a burden.

The baby’s not a burden.

He could die but the baby’s not a burden.

“I don’t know,” he crumbles, holding the cup with one hand and tapping his finger against his forehead. “I’m going fucking crazy right now. I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, that’s not good for your condition.”

“Yeah, say that when you got a cheating husband and death around the corner,” he bites. Only his tone falters when he aims for bad-tempered. For a split second he forgets everything but how rude he was, goes to apologize when Mia brushes it off knowingly, brushes a hand through his hair and tells him it’s alright, he has every right to vent.

Niall’s so grateful, leans into her hand when a dull noise comes to focus, a muted chant from somewhere. It’s so familiar, oddly _comforting_... coming from outside?

“Is that...?”

“Yeah,” she laughs surprisingly. “They’ve been here all night in this crazy weather. Haven’t seen such a crowd since you were giving birth to Avery.”

“Oh my God,” Niall groans. “How did they find out?”

“Well. You and Harry weren’t completely discreet last night. I don’t think they know _why_ you’re here, though. Been hearing both of your names in the screams.”

Niall nods, rubs his face and mulls over politely asking them to leave via Twitter after thanking them or--

“Think the whole building can sing _Strong_ and _More Than This_ by this point,” she jokes.

Before he can express just how sorry for everything he is, Mia stops him again, runs a hand down his face and tells him she’ll be back later.

There’s really nothing else she can do.

The first thing Niall does is call Zayn.

It just passed nine in the morning, his phone tells him. Most likely they’re still sleeping, curled around each other on the couch. Niall can’t help the tiny smile that breaks from the thought, his two favorite people sleeping peacefully.

God, he loves his family. He’s so in love with his family and maybe that’s why this is happening. Maybe he was a bit too happy with his little team, the little thing that meant the most to him. Maybe--

“Where are you?”

Niall lays back down and presses a comforting hand over his belly, like he’s trying to tell his baby the nerves going through his body aren’t permanent. Only he’s been telling himself this for months.

Months, that's it. That's all that's left.

“I’m at the hospital, I texted you before I left,” Niall sighs.

“No, you didn’t, cut this shit, Niall. Why are you at the hospital?!”

“Shut the fuck up, Zayn,” he says. “Zayn, not right now, please.” The hand with the IV attached covers his face. It reminds him of everything even more. So many fucking reminders. “Don’t do this right now.”

“Baby, what’s going on? Why the hospital? I’ve been losing my damn mind for the past hour,” he fumbles. “Fuck, you wouldn’t pick up your phone, the car’s still in the driveway. I’m sorry, just please talk to me. Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” he says. If he was asked what he wanted the answer would be Zayn. The answer’s always Zayn. God dammit. “I’m here with Harry, I’m fine. Been feeling something in my stomach for a little but I’m fine now.”

“Which hospital are you staying at? What happened? How long were you even there?”

“Stop asking questions, where’s Ems?”

Zayn’s quiet, only Bosco’s yelps coming from somewhere near the line bouncing through.

“Zayn?”

“She’s in her room now. I screamed at her and now she doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Why the fuck you screamed at her?” Niall snaps, throwing a hand in the air. That's something they've actually agreed on, an unspoken rule since she starting to learn how to respond physically and verbally. They don't yell at her, because they _don't_ have to. She's the sweetest little girl who obeys the first time; sometimes the second when she wants to be stubborn but no more. “One night, Zayn. I leave you two home for one night.”

“She kept asking for you, I didn’t know what to tell her. Niall, I fucking lost my mind so many times. Christ, you were just here last night, then I wake up and you’re gone? What do you expect?”

“Put her on the phone,” Niall says. “Jesus, Zayn. You never scream and when you do it’s for this.”

“ _I_ want to talk to you. Babe, what are you at the hospital for? I’m still losing my mind.”

“Dummy,” Niall reluctantly chuckles, outrageously fed up with the man but unable to stop the little laugh. He sees Harry blinking awake. “I’ll tell you when you get here.”

“Where is _here_?”

“Put my daughter on the phone.”

“Ugh,” Zayn drawls, only because he knows it makes Niall laugh even more. “Fine. Avery!” he calls before asking Niall, “What are you doing?”

“I’m just laying down. The baby’s okay, I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“I missed you.”

“Thought you were losing your mind.”

“So? Does that mean I can’t miss my man?”

Niall swallows, nods his head minutely when Harry mouths if he wants breakfast before leaving the room. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Zayn.”

“I thought something happened to you. I really, really love you and I swear I lost my mind thinking something bad happened.”

Niall’s a gracious person. Honestly the most understanding person he knows. He doesn’t deserve this.

“Put Ems on the phone, please,” he whispers.

Zayn doesn’t respond, just calls for Avery again, the rapid knock on the door being heard and Bosco’s nails scratching the surface.

“Avery Jamille, open the door. Daddy wants to talk to you.”

Niall wants to go home already. More than anything he wants to be home.

  
Zayn gets there an hour later, and Niall only realizes they’re there when little feet start running towards his bed, little Ems struggling to climb on it. They hug and talk and Niall pets her face, assures her Daddy’s okay, only has a funny feeling in his stomach. When she asks if it’s going away he tightly smiles, asks Harry if he can do this last favor and take her to eat breakfast; he quickly complies, grabs the entendre clearly as he pipes up and excitedly carries Ave away on his shoulders.

It’s only Zayn there, Mia left ten minutes ago after making sure nothing was running incorrectly.

“How do you feel?” he asks, slides his hands in his pockets and tilts his head to eye Niall.

Niall shrugs, pouts one side of his mouth and mindlessly says he’s dandy. Zayn’s there when he struggles to sit up, a warm arm around his back and the other’s hand gripping his wrist. In any other situation Niall wouldn’t feel so guilty when he leans into him and doesn’t move. Only it’s _this_ , and them, with a faulty pregnancy and a horrible scandal squished between them.

He still doesn’t move.

“You never told me what’s going on,” Zayn murmurs where his head’s perched over Niall’s. Niall can’t look at him.

“Um,” he starts, figures out a way to explain it all. “Dunno, body’s not funtioning to fit Jay, so. Got meds to be on for a while, I think. But it’s taken cared of.”

“Jay? Is that what you’re naming it?”

Niall shrugs again, shoulder pressed to Zayn’s chest and it hits him how unnecessarily close they are. “Kinda wanna stick with the J middle names. Is that cool?”

“You have the say in this,” Zayn points. His thumb’s rubbing Niall’s bare skin that’s visible from the gown, the knobs of his spine shifting under Zayn’s touch. It makes him exhale, faces Zayn’s chest even more despite the alarms going off in his head. Mia told him he couldn’t do this alone, he uses as an excuse; leaves the self-guilt storm for later.

Right now he wants to feel wanted, hasn’t felt wanted in so fucking long. He doesn't  _need_ to feel wanted, he just  _wants_ to. Wants at least one good factor for the moment.

“So do you,” he points out, one side of his face against the jacket as he looks up at Zayn. He’s suddenly reminded of the time they toured through Europe for their second tour, a memory shared in a hotel room with a raging party going on across the street they were prohibited from. Paul’s orders. Zayn had pulled Niall onto his chest, mockingly cooed down at him since Niall was being shit and stubborn.

It was one of the first times Niall felt a glimmer of how much Zayn actually loved him.

The Zayn before him now sits in front of him, appraises every angle of his face for ailments.

“I know I look a mess, don’t say shit.”

“I wasn’t saying anything,” Zayn shockingly laughs, raises his unoccupied hand in defense. “Was just making sure you’re okay, you’re still handsome, babe.”

“I said don’t say shit.”

“Now, your first pregnancy, that took a toll on your face.”

Niall flips him off, kicks a covered foot towards his hip when Zayn shifts, making a tan hand automatically grip the ankle right before the assault. His thumb runs over the skin, hold never faltering.

“But nah, still thought you were so beautiful, if m’being honest.”

Niall has the audacity to blush, feels the hair on his arms fucking roasting and shriveling away with the heat coursing around.

“You can’t,” he huffs, equally enamored and angry. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Yes I can. You just think I’m talking bullshit after what I did, I know,” he says, gaze fixed on the hand around Niall. Amber eyes look up, pierce Niall’s glare that’s suddenly fading. “I’m not stupid, Niall.”

“For some odd reason I still want you around,” Niall hisses. “I don’t know why, but I do. Don’t make me change my mind.”

“You love me, that’s why. Not enough, but--”

“You really want me to kick you out again, don’t you. You _just_ got back, Z.”

“Niall,” he sighs, a hand scratching the back of his head. “Baby, I don’t know what else to do. I’ve tried giving you space, I’ve tried letting you call the shots and keeping my thoughts to myself. I tell you I still love you and I’m sorry so many fucking times and. Like, I don't expect _anything_. Seriously, I-- You know, I'll keep trying and changing plans, even for the smallest cut of--” He stops, taps his forehead for words. “I don't know what I'm trying to say. I don't expect anything for a long time, fuck, a long _time_ , but. I just. I won't stop until I see _something_ and I'm not so-- Fuck,” he exhales, rubbing his face harshly with both hands. “If I thought continuing any of those things will work I’ll keep doing it. I seriously meant it when I said I love you, _you_ ,” he stresses, looking at Niall. “I only _want_ you, that never changed and it won’t. If there’s something specific you want me to do, I’ll do it. But I know you--”

“No, you don’t.”

“I know you,” he repeats. “You’re so hard-headed. Unnaturally stubborn at times, as much as it drives me crazy. You won’t tell me what to do, even if you know what it is.”

“Don’t say you know me,” Niall shakes his head. “You don’t. Because if you really knew me you wouldn’t have cheated, Zayn.”

Zayn closes his eyes, breathes with so much disappointment Niall feels waves of it.

“Don’t say you love me either, Zayn. Don’t say that never changed because that changed three times. Three fucking times you cheated and you’re gonna sit here and lie to my face like I’m a jackass.”

His heart rate’s increasing, the beep escalading but only Zayn notices, nervously checks the monitor before looking at Niall.

“Don’t say you only want me,” he cuts, growing fatigue with it all. “If I wasn’t enough for you three damn times, what makes you think I’m enough now.”

“Niall--”

“I still don’t even know why, you know. Four fucking months and I still don’t know why you cheated. I can’t say I know what went wrong, Zayn. I can’t say I know what _I_ did wrong, that you had to go and actually cheat when you had someone at home. Fuck you, Zayn, I can’t even say I’m not humiliated that all those people outside know right now that I couldn’t keep my husband from cheating. The whole world fucking knows that I wasn’t enough so don’t you dare say you only wanted me.”

“I can’t say I _hate_ you,” Niall whimpers, feels sluggish and drastically out of control of everything, of himself. “I can’t say I want nothing to do with you when that’s all I want. That's really all I _fucking want_.”

“Babe, please stop, your--”

“Fuck you!” he screams. “If you were going to eventually cheat, why’d you marry me, Zayn? If I wasn’t enough, why’d you promise so much _shit_?" He's boiling, simmering in a way that's scaring himself. He's scared of himself and it's all Zayn's fault. He's not even himself and it's all Zayn's fault. "Why’d you fuck me and got me pregnant? _Why_? Because I damn don’t deserve this,” he cries, his body drenched in red sweat.

“You don’t,” Zayn frantically agrees, standing up to lay Niall down, the shrilling beep of his heart growing alarmingly. “Niall, you don’t. I’m sorry, just please calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” he bites. There’s a sharp slice of pain rolling in his head, his ribcage expanding with agonizing desperation and he won’t calm down. “I hate the band because of you,” he slurs, slowly pushes Zayn away but he’s falling to the side, falling back and falling apart. “I hate ever trying out for that damn show. I hate attending that stupid interview because look at where that got me,” he sobs. He thinks he’s pushing Zayn away, only his back’s against the mattress and Zayn’s frozen by the side.

“Yeah, look at where that got you,” Zayn sadly agrees. “A cheating husband and a broken family, I know. But you got a daughter out of that.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Niall whimpers, covering his face. “Zayn, just shut up.”

“It’s gotten us a beautiful daughter, Niall. You don’t hate that. It gave me you, and I love that more than the rest.”

“Shut up!” Niall screams. He sits up straight so quickly Zayn backs up. “Leave already! Go fuck a bitch, that’s all you’re good at!”

“It gave me you,” Zayn repeats, refraining Niall’s hands from pushing him away. His grip is tight around Niall’s hands, his heart rate only increasing, but he has to keep talking. “That interview was the best thing to happen to me because it gave me you. I cheated, and I’m sorry, Niall, I’m so fucking sorry I hurt you like that.” Niall’s shaking his head, crying and telling Zayn to go away; only he’s not letting him go when his back falls again. “I can’t take that back, as much as I want to, I can’t. But right now all I have left is to keep trying. That’s all I have left, please don’t take that away from me,” he begs.

“Fuck you, Zayn. Goddamn you.”

His grip falters completely. So does his heartrate.

{~*~}

Time becomes an ambiguous concept for Niall.

One moment he can’t muster the effort to care; it’s all going to end soon, anyway.

But the next moment he’s desperate, burdened beyond belief that his time in this body is drastically shortened. His body’s going to fail him, and he doesn’t have a say in that.

 

He wakes up lazily, so slowly with heavy blinks. It takes so much exertion to finally stop blinking and keep his eyes open. But now everything’s blurry, fucking pixelated with blurry ends and he can’t focus on anything. Niall’s so goddamn out of his mind, sluggish with everything that he doesn’t even care where is he, knows he’s not in his house, for sure. That’s probably the only thing he knows, though.

When he does pinpoint onto something, when his vision’s clear enough to focus all around the room he realizes he’s at a hospital, in a bed with a curtain surrounding his little space and a television propped in the upper lefthand corner. Okay. He’s in a hospital in a hospital gown and he doesn’t know why. He’s so fucking drugged, is the next thing he knows completely.

Louis’ with him. Louis’ sitting on his right, is the third thing he clearly registers. Louis has day-old scruff with a big coat on his lap, folded until it’s elevated enough to rest his elbow on, his chin on his open palm. He’s looking back at Niall when Niall blinks the last current of optical fogginess away.

He’s mad at Louis, he thinks. There’s something to be angry about at this moment, some spoken-lashed-out dilemma between them that might’ve been days ago, more than a year ago; who fucking knows. He’s mad for some shit but he’s too weak to care.

“Louis,” he says, but it’s muffled since he can’t open his mouth properly. It’s a blessing Louis’ name doesn’t require moving his mouth, because he can’t find the nerves connected to his jaw to kick in.

Louis seems to understand. He gets up to put his coat on the chair he was sitting in and walks over to Niall’s side, leans a hip against the bedframe.

“Hey, mate. Long time no see,” he smiles. Maybe they were never mad at each other. Maybe Niall’s mind is suddenly shitty with initial wakefulness.

“Hi,” Niall croaks, blinks again slowly. He hasn’t moved once since waking up and he doesn’t think he’s ever going to again. Wait. Is-- “Am I paralyzed?”

“No,” Louis laughs, shaking his head. “No, Nialler. You’re completely mobile. Just really fucking tired, maybe, that’s all.”

Niall hums, smiles and closes his eyes again. Louis pets his hair, moves whole-brunette strands off Niall’s forehead.

“Where ‘s everybody?” Niall asks. Then he has the ability to move his head. He opens his eyes and looks around again, hates the slight resistance against his moves. “Where’s Avery? Where’s my daughter?”

“Easy,” Louis soothes, pressing his hands on Niall’s shoulders to keep him settled. “She’s fine. She’s with Harry and my girls back home.”

Niall sighs, rests back and grows pliant under Louis’ assuring hands. They’re massaging the bone, spreading this unknown warmth Niall didn’t know he needed until Louis talks again.

“Liam had his baby” he grins, the curve of his mouth straining against blooming fully.

Niall takes time to react. The words slowly morph together until he raises his eyebrows, frozen body wiring up at this second.

“Liam was pregnant?” he astonishingly asks. Liam was pregnant? How long was he out? Since when was Liam gay?! When the fuck--

“No!” Louis laughs, crumbles into himself and crosses his arms over his stomach. “Holy shit, Ni, what do they have you on? That’s that good stuff, must be.” He wipes his eye, gives one more laugh before sitting up on the mattress, curving a hand around Niall’s knee. “No, dumbass. Danielle gave birth. She was just three doors down from here, actually. But they’re home now. His name’s Anthony and he has Liam’s button nose,” Louis coos, scrunching up his face in adoration.

Niall then remembers that, remembers a glowing Danielle walking with the fattest belly ever. Even fatter than his for Avery’s. Even. . .

It takes this sliver of information for Niall to gear back in memory; to set the pieces together and prop a clear picture of what’s exactly going on.

He’s pregnant. And when he looks down at his stomach, he’s _really_ pregnant. And skinny?

His arms are so thin, thinner than before. How long ago _was_ before? He’s so fucking skinny when he finally manages to lift his arms, the skin tightly drawn over bone as he looks at his skinnier fingers. He feels his face, doesn’t find the natural pudginess there. He doesn’t _feel_ as thin on his face, doesn’t feel sunked-in cheekbones nor hollow eye sockets. But he’s definitely slender. Almost. . . almost _fragile_.

And he hasn’t been fragile in so, so long. Maybe never. Never! Even when he held Avery in him and barely walked anywhere without feeling the sharp pang in his lowerback or heels, he wasn’t like this. Zayn had to tell him to calm down, to stop carelessly prancing around the times he _did_ walk, almost literally skipped along with the Eagles blasting through the living room.

(Niall thinks tenderly of Zayn’s unimpressed sigh, the way he’d rest his hands on his hips when Niall would stop mid-dance to peer back at him. It took a steady pout and a lingering kiss for the smolder to dissipate, the way the tan corners of his mouth quivered under Niall’s tongue until the blond skipped away with a laugh, putting the current song on replay.)

And especially after, after giving birth. He was the opposite of fragile. Couldn’t be dainty if he tried. And did he try for Zayn’s sake. For the times Zayn was timid with letting Niall fuck him, those very _very_ few times he possesed cold feet since Niall didn’t have a feeble bone in his body.

Niall can’t remember a time he wasn’t _thoroughly_ rough with Zayn, can’t muster vague thoughts of not fucking his pretty husband till he came untouched.

But now Niall can’t ever imagine lifting his own body to simply sit up. Can’t believe there will be another time he’ll walk freely without feeling so weak.

His bottom lip trembles, gapes with the realization of it all. Why he’s there; what’s happened to cause this; what happened right before he passed out.

He’s hit instantly with it all, everything comes to mind in sharp drastic clarity for his comatose state.

Every single thing.

He fidgets, stares ahead and slides his arms up the bed. His feet are flat against the mattress, ready to push him up because damn whoever thinks he’s spending another moment here.

He doesn’t even know how long he’s been there; doesn’t know what’s going on in his body.

Doesn’t know why Zayn’s not there when he should be; his cheating husband.

And why, oh why. Why does Niall think of that when he could be dying.

He’s sitting up, outrageously, when he blinks back to the present. He’s sitting up and breathing like he can’t inhale enough air, like oxygen’s slowly wasting and he needs his fill before it’s too late. He’s breathing heavily and Louis’ trying to get him to lie back down but Niall’s having none of it.

“How long was I here?” he blurts, looks down where he’s met with the swell of his stomach. The soft white blanket is over his legs, ruffled around his waist where he’s trembling to deflect falling back with defeated strength.

“Ni, lay back down,” Louis says, struggling the whole time to stop Niall from continuing his strained efforts without having to manually lay him back down. But Niall feels like he’s been on his back for too long. Too fucking long.

“How long was I here?” he repeats. When he closes his eyes everything turns, suddenly the ceiling’s in view when he flops back down out of nowhere. He groans, closes his eyes and groans only because he can’t get his body to move the way he wants; he’s just a worthless pile of bones on the bed.

“Niall, calm the fuck down, mate, you’re losing it,” Louis scolds. He sounds more worried than Niall feels. And Niall has enough anxiety to give every patient in the building a seaful.

“Louis, how long was I here?” he pouts. He has months on this earth and who knows how long he’s spent laying down in this forsaken place.

What the fuck is going on.

“Three weeks,” he answers, sitting closer to Niall until his hips are aligned with Niall’s chest. “You were in and out of it the whole time. Muttered shit here and there, but. You’re fine. You’re _okay_ , Niall. I promise you that.”

Niall rubs his face. Three weeks. Three weeks wasted.

“Where’s Zayn?” is the next thing he asks. He wants to say _my man_ ; _my love_ ; _my husband_. His fucking husband, and he _can’t_. Nothing’s worse than this. Niall can honestly say there’s nothing worse than wanting to call someone your own and you just. You just can’t. He can say there’s nothing worse than being hurt by the only person, the _only_ person you wouldn’t expect it from.

He was hurt by his best friend. His own best friend and he still wants him.

“He’s, um,” Louis starts, trying to get himself more comfortable. “He’s with Preston and Jag, right now. Arranging stuff,” he mutters.

The hand over Niall’s face drops, lands next his bony hip and instantly curves around the bottom of his stomach. His belly is big, so full and he hasn’t felt this way in four years; both physically and emotionally.

“What do you mean?” he asks, knows they haven’t seen Preston since Louis and Harry came back from their trip when they brought Piper home for the first time, when paps swarmed the airport like termites and they needed protection to get to their car and home. Contacting Preston can only mean one thing.

“Everyone knows, Niall,” Louis eventually whispers, gives a flat smile and a helpless shrug. “And I mean everyone. Mirror, The Sun, Daily Mail, People, fucking _Bubka_. Spread like wildfire and everyone just. . . everybody knows now.”

Niall slowly registers the words. And why is everything processing too slowly?

His first thought is the troubled load this throws on him, that the world knows he was cheated on.

He closes his eyes, swallows past the sheetrock of his throat and tries to steady his breathing. The steady monitor of his heartbeat is muted, pressed around the room as his inhales match the rhythm.

But then... Pale eyelids rise slowly, more slowly than his movements and his thoughts and slower than his dwindling breaths. The world knows that, knew that since the end of August and if his foggy mind is correct, it’s the middle of January.

“They know I’m pregnant?”

“They know you’re pregnant,” Louis confirms, voice matted with uncertainty. “That’s all they’re sure of, though, mate. Some websites say this happened after Zayn did what he did; you slept with someone else and then _boom_ , this. A show guessed this happened _before_ what Z did, that he found out and fucked that girl because he was scared, some shit like that, who knows. But they don’t know how far along you are, who’s the father or if you’re even keeping it.”

“I am,” Niall says, turning to look at Louis. “I am keeping Jay.”

Louis huffs, a sad grin morphing into a bitter frown. A hand appears over Niall’s face, smoothes over the skin soothingly.

“That’s what we’re scared of, Niall. We’re losing our fucking minds. _Especially_ Zayn. Especially Zayn,” he repeats, like Niall needs to hear it twice to understand the momentum of it all. And Louis doesn’t have a right to say that, he doesn’t have the right to say anything at all when Niall’s holding the baby and no ones knows more than him how fatal this all is.

The blond-- brunette sighs, goes to open his mouth to snap at Louis when his lips quiver again, and he barely manages to silent the first cry before it’s rushed out of him and he’s crying; smacking a hand over his mouth and crying into a tight fist.

“No one’s more scared than me,” he whimpers and bites the skin of his thumb to keep quiet. “Louis, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die but I can’t kill the baby, either,” he sobs, literally racks his whole frame.

You can be halfway through your third trimester, and with the technology today, your pregnancy can be terminated with a scheduled appointment and a set date.

And Niall’s been antagonized more than he admits, more than he likes. More than he’s willing to ever say to Louis, to his mam, to Zayn.

“Where’s Zayn?” he repeats while concentrating on the beating in his chest. The tones are starting to pass by, aren’t drowning the room and he can’t experience another episode. Can’t lose any more time.

“Louis, where’s Zayn?” he says again with a sigh. He closes his eyes, ignores the sting of redness surrounding them and swallows. Sitting up is even more difficult, but Louis’ there with an arm around his shoulders, the other pressed against the bed to stabilize the both of them.

“He’ll be here soon, promise,” Louis answers, keeping the arm around Niall as he huffs labored breaths towards his belly; his belly that’s taking form more quickly than neither can believe. “Listen,” Louis then starts after Niall’s calm enough. “You’ve been gone the past few weeks, so you don’t know what’s been going on, but. Mate, Zayn’s been getting a lot of shit,” he informs, stops when Niall brings his gaze up to him. “He spent his birthday here, with you. The whole day, even after Mia’s disappointed looks and the whole damn floor scorning him. Niall, everything was so shit,” he frowns.

“What happened?” he asks, feels deflated and wired up at the same time because. Because no one fucking disgraces Zayn. Absolutely no fucking one. And maybe Niall hates him so much he can bleed his hate out and still have the liquid running through his veins; maybe he doesn’t want anything to do with the man to the point it infuriates him that they’re legally together; maybe he’s ashamed despite all of this he still loves him, wasn’t enough to keep him from sleeping with a whore. But Zayn’s fucking amazing at everything else. He might be a shit husband but that’s Niall situation, that’s for him to deal with. Fuck everyone else.

“Well,” Louis begins, rubbing the middle of Niall’s shoulder blades when it’s quiet long enough. “Nothing _happened_. S’not like he succumbed to this shit, but. Twitter wasn’t really nice, hashtags going all over the place I’d rather not repeat. The plus side was Liam’s son was born on that day,” he softly smirks. “Weird, innit? Half the fans demanding a photo of the cute baby and the other half, um. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Niall breathes, running a hand over his taut stomach. He hasn’t felt so full in years. Full in a whole other way. The skin of his belly is stretched, creating a semi-circle jutting out of his abdomen.

A baby’s in there. He can’t help but think that he’s carrying a second baby, which is so fucking rare. This is so rare and he won’t be around afterwards to talk about it.

“Shit,” he mutters, keeping a palm pressed over his belly button. Louis’ hand joins him, but instead of a peaceful motion, his index finger’s poking the skin, alternating the patches every few seconds.

“How are you feeling?” Louis genuinely asks, poking unrelenting. Niall gives a half smirk.

“Like shit, but that’s not surprising.” Louis laughs, always so gracious and Niall needs him right now. Needs the smile to stay there, to keep him there also. “Didn’t realize how fucking skinny I got, want the biggest hamburger with the greasiest chips right now.” He swallows, feels a low ripple moving below his ribcage. “And honestly? More than the mighty hunger, I’m _really_ damn horny.”

“This is the Niall I know,” Louis chuckles, nodding his head in agreement.

“Seriously, bro. Think my prick’s going to explode. Shit,” he hisses, rubbing his face harshly.

“You’re going to be like that for a while,” Louis says. And when Niall asks what he’s talking about, Louis gets up with a sigh and begins rummaging through the files stacked behind the door, pulling out the needed folder with glee. “So,” he clears his throat, sitting back in his regular seat with his legs crossed.

“Due to the surplus dose of the prescribed medication, a nonnegotiable maneuver caused by the patient’s sudden cardiac lapse, symptoms are presumed to derive after he/she is conscious. They include, but are not limited to--”

“Mate, I didn't finish school, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Louis closes the folder roughly, pierces Niall with a mild scowl for cutting him off.

“I was going to say, before you so rudely interrupted, that you’re going to be horny for a really long time.”

Niall scoffs, shrugs with the movement because he’s been horny since he was practically twelve, nutted the first time two minutes into his first porno; the girl barely had a dick in her mouth.

Louis bites a corner of his lip with Niall’s reaction. He puts the folder away, hugs the thick sweater more around him as he walks over to him.

“Ni, this is serious,” he hangs his head to the side, eyeing Niall with certainty. “While you were out, when Zayn couldn’t be here, Mia talked to me. She told me a lot of shit that’s really damn scary. The procedures,” he starts to list on his fingers, “the data, making sure you don’t accidentally overdose, giving you the precise measurement that’s enough to drug you yet not interfere with your baby’s growth. So much shit, she wouldn’t have wrote this if it wasn’t important.”

“You know,” Niall mutters, can’t look at Louis right now. “I’m really tired of all this shit. I’m more scared than anyone. So don’t try and imply I’m not taking this seriously. I’ve been doing serious for the past few months, I’ve been doing serious since I found out Zayn cheated. I’m fucking tired of it.”

“I know, mate. I know, that’s not--”

“What am I supposed to do about it, anyway?” Niall laughs; there’s no mirth in it. “I’m pregnant, and I’m still legally bound to Zayn. What the fuck am I supposed to do about my hard prick, then? No one’s gonna sleep with me, Louis. I’m alone. There’s only me right now. So you telling me I should take this all seriously is shit,” he shrugs.

Louis’ quiet, only the rattle of the vents beneath their feet and the machinery playing their soundtrack through the dead silence.

“I’m tired,” Niall finalizes, hunches forward with defeat. “I’m really fucking tired.”

There’s movement, and Niall looks up to see Louis sitting near his feet, rubbing the area where his calf’s resting.

“That’s why I’m telling you this, Ni,” he soothes, looking up to stare at Niall. “You _are_ still married. You’re still with Zayn.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for the lies!!! i said there will be an update last week and there wasn't, don't think i'm a liar i'm sorry DDD: this chapter was very difficult to write. this whole story is kind of difficult bc i'm trying to balance a lot of things and i feel like i'm failing which makes me stress so i have to stop writing and take a breather before continuing, etc.  
> btw am i the only one crying that yesterday the final naruto movie aired in japan? i'm sf butthurt i have to wait for the movie with subs. but MY OTPS SASUSAKU AND NARUHINA GOT TOGETHER!!!!! i had a feeling naruhina were gonna become canon but i was iffy about sasusaku bc sasuke's so indifferent but. it all worked out okay in the end. i'm so vulnerable, you don't know, naruto was one of the first fandoms i've joined and it's done Dx i hope you all feel better than i do right now!  
> and i hope you enjoy this xx

_The seating is perfect, in Niall's opinion. He doesn't budge up to Greg when he reaches over for the dish of corned beef, nor does anyone scold him when he plops serving after serving of carrot & parsnip mash onto his once-again clean plate. There's also a hearty dose of bailey's cream liqueur running through his bloodstream. He feels content, warm in his aunt's house for the late Thanksgiving dinner surrounded by his family members, people he genuinely loves._

_He does miss the boys, feel a bit internally jolted that the chaotic mess they always throw themselves into isn't strewn around in the immaculate dining room. But Niall's still happy, knows he'll see them again in about two weeks and goes back to emptying his plate where he's sat at the end of the polished wood table._

_He's happy and warm and content which is why he immediately excuses himself when Zayn calls, walks down the hallway until he's in his guestroom._

_"Zee, what's up?"_

_"What's up?"_

_Niall laughs, raises his eyebrows with it as he goes to sit on the bed. It's a sturdy mattress that only delivers shoulder pains but it'll do._

_"Okay, um. Nothin', really. Well, you just called in the middle of supper, so. Damn you."_

_"Mmm. M'not even sorry," he quirks. Niall can hear so evidently the smirk on Zayn's face, just one lifted corner over white teeth._

_"'Course you're not, evil thing. Anyway, seriously, what's up?"_

_"Does their have to be a reason behind calling my mate?"_

_"When I'm eating, definitely."_

_"Fatass." Niall shrugs, puckers a smile though Zayn won't see it. He doesn't doubt Zayn can picture it, though. "But on the real, I kinda miss you."_

_"Aw, Zaynie. I'd **hope** you'd miss me. How's home for you?"_

_"Came back to my place, actually. Left mum's last night since, like. Dunno, wanted to be alone for a little. Now I'm alone and," there's a rustle, maybe Zayn shrugged, maybe he scratched the skin beside his collar, "S'it weird I miss you lot?"_

_"For you, very weird. Like breast-reduction weird. Closing-down-buffets weird. Gettin' kinda nervous here, is this really Zayn, mate?"_

_Zayn laughs, this sharp and muted noise filtering through the line. Niall has to grip his knee tightly. Maybe if he steadies himself he won't fly away just by hearing Zayn laugh because of him._

_"Fuck you, mate," he says._

_"Ooo, can't wait to see you now," Niall flirts. "Thinking of you, babes. Signed, hugs and kisses."_

_"I really miss you."_

_Niall deflates, falls back on the mattress. He instantly regrets it when he feels like his head just bashed into a layer of rocks, but. Zayn's quiet, no mirth nor fragment of a smile in the air between them._

_"Miss you, too," he murmurs. They have a prerecording to shoot on the following Saturday for Story of My Life. Then there's the shitload of promo and typical interviews they have to sit in. Mostly Niall's wired for it, even appreciates the dull repeated questions asked because he loves his job. Loves living day by day dwelling in this state of earned fame and genuine support._

_Right now all he's wired to is Zayn._

_"Okay," Zayn interrupts his episode. "I still miss you, miss you the fuckest most, don't tell Harry that--"_

_"Already texting him."_

_"--But I wanted to see if you wanted to fly in soon, like a few days before we have to dress up for people and shit."_

_"Hmm, why?"_

_"First, I miss you. I just said that. And I kinda miss your arse."_

_That can mean two things, in a certain respectful order. Niall knows Zayn's not redundant._

_"You made a bootycall in the middle of my meal?"_

_"What? No. That's not even-- Yeah, I kinda did."_

_"Ugh," Niall rolls his eyes. He's trying to channel the ripple of anger but it's gone before he can touch it. "You suck."_

_"Your dick? Don't tempt me.”_

_“I’ve officially ordered it. Zayn Malik is uncool from this moment on.”_

_“Heyyyy. That’s not nice.”_

_“You asking me to stop by for a fuck isn’t splendid, either.”_

_“Not only a fuck. Christ, Niall. You’re **not** just a piece of ass,” he fixes. “You’re not, just a nice piece of ass, either. . . Nor a hot tight ass. . . that is nice, you’re not that.”_

_“Are you finished?”_

_Zayn sighs, grainy sand mixing in the mouthpiece. “Yeah, m’done. Still miss you. Above everything else I miss you and I didn’t wanna text it. S’it weird I like your voice?”_

_“Very. Where’s Pez?”_

_“Think she’s with Leigh. Her boyfriend has a show or summat.”_

_“When will she be back?”_

_Zayn knows him, knows why Niall’s asking this._

_“Pez knows the deal, Ni. One of the first things I told her was about us.”_

_There’s no us, Niall thinks. They occasionally, almost rarely, fuck. Most play fights end with an unplaced kiss or a tender gaze. Sometimes they’ll cuddle during a game or a movie. But that’s pretty much it. It’s a lot of what Niall’s wanted and nothing he can compare it to. But it’s nothing to put a label on._

_He maybe wants a label._

_“Listen, don’t come. I feel like an ass now that you think I only want you around for a lay. Though you’re also an ass to actually believe that. I’ll go visit you, is that fine?”_

_“You’ll do that?”_

_“If it’s fine. I’m asking, right?”_

_Niall mulls it over, counts the number of bodies in the house and the number of days it’ll take for them to drive Zayn away. If anything, he’ll apologize when they’re back on the road._

_“Why don’t you come over for Christmas? We can spend it at me mam’s. Don’t think Paul’ll pull us outta the house during the hols. You can bring your missus, if you want.”_

_“Nah, think she’s heading over to her grandma’s. I’ll go, though. Give me a list of gifts I’ll have to buy and for whom. Kinda rude going empty handed.”_

_Niall grips his phone tightly, closes his eyes slowly because Zayn’s killing him. Zayn’s going to kill him really soon and Niall’s too enamored with the emotion pinching his skin to care._

_“Can I go see you, too? Does that offer still stand?”_

_“Of course, yeah. Like, just come whenever, babe. I’ll be here till Preston literally drags me out of bed,” he laughs._

_“Good to hear,” Niall mutters. His dark green pullover has loose threads near the wrists. He grabs one and pulls at it, sees the stitching untangle. “Have to babysit Theo tomorrow but I’ll drive by the next day.”_

_“Sick, babe. Can’t wait.”_

_“And no sex. I’m not going for sex.”_

_“Fuck, Niall, I didn’t even have that on my mind this time.”_

_“You’re lying, cunt.”_

_“’Kay, I am, but I honestly wasn’t going to start something. I have a fridge full of beer, Li left his PlayStation. We can have a chill time.”_

_“You know the way to a man’s heart.”_

_“Your heart, you mean. And all the alcohol you could ask for.”_

_“God, I can’t wait to go over now.”_

_“They’re calling your name as we speak. Wanking to the thoughts of your lips around--”_

_“Right, Z, I think I get it.” Zayn laughs, the rushed exhale though his scrunched up nose. “Gonna go now,” Niall softly says with a smile. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way. Love you, Zaynie.”_

_“Love you, babe.”_

_The call ends and Niall sits there looking at his screen, stays there until the unimpressed pout on Zayn's face vanishes and he's left staring at his reflection. He looks so smitten, so taken aback on a whirlwind ride, hooked on whatever the hell this feeling is. It should, it really fucking should, bother him how much he feels for Zayn when there's nothing to latch onto. At best, they're the greatest friends, and oddly that's enough for Niall. And on nights (very very few nights) he overthinks and simmers over this solid fact, what somewhat bothers him is only how much he's so **unbothered** by it all. Because Zayn will get married one day, and it won't be him. And Niall. . . takes that way better than he originally thought._

_When he goes back to the dining table, it's like there was never a pause, his nanny at the head of the table telling with so much energy a story of when she was younger, back when sitcoms used to air couples sleeping in different beds at night because anything else was derogatory. He slips into his chair right when she reaches the climax, a roar of laughter spilling around, almost literally spilling the jar of iced tea near the table's edge._

_He should laugh, should guffaw with his cousin who's currently throwing her head back with a hand smacked over her mouth. But instead he gives a smile and rests his chin on his palm, gazes at his grandma when really Zayn's in his vision, taking up his whole body._

_It's stupid, a flimsy reaction he might regret later on--but just barely, he doesn't regret anything--when he decides to text Zayn._

_I hate u zayn, now i cant enjoy my food ! :-(_

_Wat did i do? :/_

_I miss u_

_Maura calls Niall, and he looks up to see her scolding at him to put his phone away since they're at the table. He does, not only is his mother scary at times but his phone's dying, anyway._

_When he checks his phone about an hour later, dessert's being handed out, thank Christ, there are a chainmail of texts from Zayn._

_I miss u more x(_  
 _Wanna dick pic since you miss me? ;) aha jk_  
 _That was a joke_  
 _I looked u up earlier, i dont think theres a show u dont shake ur arse in. Ima creep i know :B but ur hot_

_U are indeed a creep, leave me alone ! Niall texts. He doesn't mean it, and he knows Zayn would know that. He's just a little tipped to the side with the thought of Zayn looking him up, probably wanking to a few videos. He wouldn't put that pass Zayn; he doesn't know if that's satisfying or alarming._

_But i thought you missed me wanker, just trying to be a good lad sheesh :(:_

_Ur doin splendid, but my phones at 1%_

_My patience with u is at 1%_

_Niall laughs, close to choking on the spoon full of apple amber in his mouth. His mother peers at him again, this time more lethal with narrow eyes. So he excuses himself, politely, grabs his dirty dishes to clean up his mess and goes to his room._

_He decides to not text Zayn back, it'll only spiral down one way he does not want to venture in his guest room. He babysits Theo the following day, has trouble pouring the correct measurements of baby formula and silently promises he'll never have a child after the second time his nephew shits himself. And the next minute he's packing and before he knows it, he's outside Zayn's flat, the happy-and-overly-tipped cab driver turning down the corner and disappearing._

_He's alone, for the first time in a really long time. Zayn's residence is at the fucking end of the world, practically hidden behind the massive trees that bracket the street. It was such a hassle getting the place because it wasn't in the middle of London, and Zayn wouldn't arrive on time when random notices called them in. (Though that was sorta the reason why he chose it.)_

_Bro open up !! he texts, putting his phone on silent and stuffing it in his back pocket. The walk up to the frontdoor is wobbly, broken steps and splotches of grass littering about but it looks homey, looks lived in instead of neglected. It;s cold as fuck in the late November air and the cold doesn't always bother him but he's shaking now. Wants to demolish the piece of wood separating him from the boy inside. The lovely, fucking beautiful of a male right behind that door. He's probably texted Zayn only a minute ago so he shouldn't feel so jittery as he does. Maybe Zayn was showering, is showering? Maybe he was sleeping or taking a nap, what if he **is** sleeping now? Maybe Niall should've--_

_Zayn has a thin duvet over his shoulders, a fist against his chest holding the ends together. "Could've warn me an hour in advance," he yawns, scratching nappy split ends off his forehead. A smile breaks across his face when he sees Niall clearly behind squinted eyes, morning bags under them. It's really three in the afternoon, but it's Zayn. His logic's unquestionable. "Hey, Ni, come in."_

_"Brought food," Niall greets, walking past Zayn to get inside the heated entryway. His tongue is flopping against the roof of his mouth, ready to spill everything in the heat of the minute as Zayn closes the door and turns to look at him._

_"Sick," he nods, bushy eyebrows raising with the motion. "Want me to warm it up now?" He goes to grab the bag, keeps the handle tucked between the fleece's ends and hugs Niall with the other arm, resting a lazy head on his shoulder in the process._

_"Nah, I'll just put it in the fridge," Niall offers, patting the area between Zayn's shoulder blades. He's so warm, must've slept right through the morning. Of course he did, he's Zayn. It's all very quiet and Niall doesn't know if it's because Zayn's still half asleep or because this moment shouldn't be meddled with._

_"Why? You're not hungry for once?"_

_"Always hungry, babe. Always," he smirks. "Think we need to put you back in bed, though."_

_"What? But I'm up. Not going to sleep while you're here, like," he says, walking towards the kitchen. "What kind of host will I be?"_

_"I'm not a fucking guest, I practically live here," Niall chuckles. Zayn laughs also, slumps his shoulders and closes his eyes with it. "Come on, I'm knackered, too."_

_Zayn doesn't need to be told twice. He bumps into Niall and makes his way down the hallway, passes his room and before Niall can ask, they're in the guestroom, Zayn already crawling over the bed._

_"What happened with your room?" He has to ask. This is **his** room whenever he comes over. Sometimes he'll sleep with Zayn but this room is **his**._

_"Too fucking bright so early," Zayn mutters into the pillow. "Blinds are shit. Stop talking, get over here."_

_And of course Niall listens to that voice. He's in a t-shirt and briefs when he lays down, calling Zayn's name softly but he only receives a half hum in return. Getting comfortable is easy, the flat is hot enough that he doesn't need to cover himself with anything when he turns on his side. But when he's drifting and can't feel his limbs, Zayn moves closer, tucks his head in Niall's chest with a hand over his hip, bringing the blanket to spread across pale legs. "I said over here," he murmurs, leaves it at that and Niall stays still afterwards._

_Niall can stay here for a really long time._

 

_"Dunno," Zayn randomly starts, turning to see different angles of himself in the mirror. "M'getting so skinny and I hate it. Think Pez is gonna be sick of it soon."_

_"You're fine," Niall says. You're amazing, you're perfect, you're so fucking great, he thinks. But he's not dramatic enough to add that. "Perrie got with you for **you**. Not your body. Your body's pretty fit, anyway."_

_"Don't reallt have a choice with Mark, now, do I?"_

_"Who does?" Niall smirks. He huffs a laugh with it when he remembers the last training they all had. It was so fucking intense, just the worse thing imaginable because Mark knew they weren't going to stick to their guides on break. Well, besides Liam. But Liam's sick in the head so that justifies him._

_Zayn ignores him, moves closer to the mirror to push hair off his forehead. "The fuck's up with my nose, won't stop growing."_

_It's strange for a moment, a punctuated moment as Niall comes to grip with the silence and locks his phone to pay more mind to Zayn. It's the fourth day he's been there, they've already watched all the current episodes of Big Bang Theory and have started rewatching F.R.I.E.N.D.S before replacing it with Star Trek after Zayn suddenly remembered he never got around to watching Into The Darkness. They ate all the leftovers Niall's managed to bring with him and are living off the canned goods Zayn has since he doesn't go grocery shopping enough for two people. (Maybe four since Niall is, you know. Niall.)_

_"Zayn?"_

_"Yo?" he answers, pulling a t-shirt back on and sitting next to Niall on the bed._

_"Are you alright?"_

_"'Course, why?" he asks, pushing the duvet around to look for the remote. He grumbles, stands up again to search under the bed. Niall hears shoes being pushed out of the way, a hum tuning out of Zayn from their latest album._

_Niall doesn't know if he's stalling or not. He knows Zayn can manage multiple tasks at once, so he can actually talk and find the control simultaneously. But he also knows Zayn always tries to swerve the conversation if it's focused on a low point of his. Like when his voice cracked at one of their first performances as a band and it ate at him that whole week. Then at practice he voiced how shitty and guilty he felt under his breath, but when Louis tried talking to him about it, suddenly everyone must've texted Zayn at that moment since he wouldn't put his phone down, then he excused himself to call his sister._

_Niall doesn't know if Zayn's stalling or not but he knows this must've been really bothering Zayn for a while. That's all he needs to know._

_"Zayn, you're so great," he does eventually admit. Zayn pokes his head over the mattress, curves an eyebrow. Niall continues, "You're the only person who doesn't know just how fucking amazing you are, Pez is head over heels for you, bro. She'd do anything for you, at this point."_

_"Um. Thanks?" Zayn laughs. His face is growing red and he can't seem to look at Niall. "That's nice you think that way, Nialler, you're amazing, too."_

_He's taking it as a joke. He can't take a fucking compliment and normally this wouldn't bother Niall so much. But for some reason it does this time. It irrationally really fucking does because. Fuck, Zayn's the most phenomenal person he's met in his twenty years of life. And despite being so young (he knows that) he's met a lottt of people. And a lot of them were really fucking great, really fucking incredible and talented and they made Niall speechless or astounded or yearning for more of whatever they gave him. But no one, absolutely no one, and Niall can say this with the utmost confidence, has ever made Niall feel the way Zayn does. Both good and bad. And the fact this uncommon and maybe half-arsed declaration isn't enough to make Zayn see that is really unnerving._

_"Whatever," he dismisses, opening his phone to continue his game on the app. The current level he's on displays emojis of two candies, a hammer, and an explosion. And he can't fucking guess it. That really fucking bugs him also. His tone must've held something upsetting because Zayn stops._

_"What did I say?" Zayn asks, abandoning the task at hand to sit at the edge of the bed, hunched to himself as he appraises Niall._

_"Nothing," he mutters. If Zayn wants to be dismissive, so can Niall. "Stupid fucking game," he adds, making a faux point that the game is aggravating; not him._

_"What game?" He slides up next to Niall, crosses his ankle and rests his head against Niall's bare shoulder. "It's Candy Crush."_

_"No. It's Guess The Emoji."_

_"Babe," Zayn chuckles, punching in the answer. "I mean the answer, it's Candy Crush."_

_It is the answer, because he completes it with a record of 86.39 seconds. Score. Niall just hums in acknowledgement, taps out of the app because Zayn's eyeing the screen and he probably doesn't want Zayn to give him any more answers. It's his game. Zayn could get his own._

_It's quiet, the kind that should put them at ease and leave many discussion starters open. But the atmosphere is heavy with something too dense for airy gossip._

_"Love, what's wrong?" Zayn asks, moving until his chin is poking the side of Niall's shoulder to get his attention. "You're burning hot."_

_Well. That's only because Zayn always has the central heating outrageously and hilariously high in the winter, and he's pressed up against Niall like he isn't the hottest person the blond knows. In the literal sense. Literally and figuratively. And then Niall's reminded again that Zayn **doesn't know that.**_

_"You're really pretty, Zee," he blurts. His tongue's rolling out of control and Niall just goes with it. He, himself, is the most honest person he knows. Right after Louis, more like. "Just don't think you know that, s'all."_

_Zayn presses his chin more firmly into Niall's shoulder, trapping his mouth from speaking at the moment. When he does speak, it's with a gentle shrug, a tender thanks and a kiss pressed to Niall's cheek._

_He turns his face right on time to catch Zayn's lips before he moves, a tight pressure between their mouths before he pulls away first. Niall's suddenly hit with this desire to show Zayn just how amazing he really is. It's not a hunger, a lust he craves nor needs. It's something Zayn needs, something long overdue._

_"C'mere," Niall murmurs, pulling Zayn onto him before he says anything else. It's a clumsy pull, with most of Zayn's bony joints bumping into the soft flesh Niall still wears. He stifles a groan, doesn't see Zayn's hidden smirk as the older boy arranges himself, keeps Niall beneath him and presses his knees to his hips because he knows this is how Niall likes it._

_"Thought we weren't having sex," Zayn whispers, nodding along with his eyes trained on Niall's chest. "You said we weren't having sex. Okay."_

_That. Is a very valid point. And Niall all of a sudden wants to be stubborn and keep his word. But it's so difficult when Zayn looks the way he does. He just. . . looks like **that**. God, he looks like that! Why does he look like that? Niall has to rest a moment, he has to. Because Zayn's not trying and he's still the prettiest person Niall's ever seen. He can say that with zero doubt. It's tiring looking at such a pretty thing for long._

_Niall rests his head back, keeps his gaze on the stubble covering Zayn's jaw, flaking up the sides of his face and meeting scruffy sideburns and wax-less black hair. He wonders if it's also tiring being that pretty._

_"What're you doing?" Zayn asks when he feels Niall's hands running up his thigh, curving over his hip to map his sides. Niall doesn't answer, just feels Zayn's body under his sweaty palms, hoping he's giving off how lovely and graceful Zayn is._

_"Love you," Niall says, smoothing his thumbs over the ridges of Zayn's ribs as he moves his hands up. "Always did. You know I liked you before, sometimes, fell in love other times, but. Always loved you, mate. And even before that I knew how great you were. Are."_

_"So." Zayn has a soft palm trailing up Niall's stomach, stopping at his chest hair before lifting hazel eyes to Niall's. "You liked me before? Not now?"_

_He licks his lips to give himself time. Niall's not a fan of putting himself on the spot. If he doesn't have to embarrass himself, he won't. So he's not going to embarrass himself in front of Zayn now. Maybe never, who knows. "Think I'll always like you a bit, as much as the next person, you know?"_

_"Yeah," Zayn mutters, more to himself than a direct answer. "I know, like, I'll probably always have this thing, for," he taps Niall's forehead, a bit too roughly, "for you, but. Dunno, think it's staying there," he chuckles quietly._

_"Well, of fucking course. It's me, duh," Niall scoffs, bringing his hands to press against Zayn's back. He's so delicate, so fragile under Niall's hands and Niall remembers when Zayn was even skinnier, practically skin and bones. He has a layer of muscle now, something to grab onto. So when Niall tightens his grip on his biceps he's met with some meat, something **he** can grab onto._

_"You know," Zayn mumbles, running a thumb over the jut of Niall's collarbone. "I think, maybe. Sometimes I think it could've worked." He's talking low, just enough that Niall perks his ears up to grasp what he's saying. At first he's confused, hasn't an idea and when he goes to ask Zayn continues. "But then you said no, and." Zayn licks his own lips; he's giving himself time. "Like, that was a shitty move, Ni. I love you to death, but. That was pretty shit."_

_It's Niall's turn to talk. And it's only quiet for so long because if he speaks without thinking it's going to be harsh. "I didn't say no, I said not now." Zayn drops his gaze, raises his eyebrows in a condescending way and Niall knows he doesn't believe him. "I said we'll see, that one day it can work out, but not yet."_

_"You practically said no," Zayn speaks. "You said all that but your face said a whole other thing so I went with that."_

_"Yeah, my face may have been contradicting. But we were eighteen, Zayn."_

_"What does that gotta with anything?"_

_"We were eighteen, fucking drunk off our arse in LA and," he swallows, doesn't have to say the rest, doesn't have to say 'Lou and Harry just broke up.' Doesn't voice 'it felt like the whole band split', "that wasn't the greatest time."_

_"Wasn't the greatest time for **you** , you mean. I was okay. I was fine, I knew what I was saying, drunk or not."_

_"You got with Pez pretty soon after that." The ball's in Zayn's court but he wants nothing to do with it. "Even proposed, if I'm not mistaken."_

_"And whose fault is that?"_

_Now Niall wants nothing to do with it. He may want to rip his hair out, might pluck Zayn's strands also just for the fucking hell of it. But that's Zayn's pride and Zayn's currently moving away, getting up to leave Niall's lap and Niall can't have that._

_"Wait, just," he grips Zayn's hips, pulls him closer and squeezes his eyes shut in the process. "That was shit of me, that was. Just." The mood is ruined. Maybe there was never a mood. "I don't want to fight. I love you, you love me. We like each other, that's great, too. Let's just be us, yeah?"_

_Zayn's looking down at him when he opens his eyes, the corners of his red mouth quivering into a smile. "That was shit of me, too. Sorry."_

_"Love you."_

_"You said that already."_

_Instead of replying Niall brings him closer, kisses him with a hand framing the back of Zayn's skull. The thing Niall loves about Zayn (one of the things) is how pliant he is when Niall wants to control. He follows when Niall leads and silently brings his own touch to heighten the atmosphere, with a slow smile or a rough bite or now, with a finger gently tucking into Niall's collar._

_"Thought you said no sex, babe," he laughs. But he's cut short when Niall roughly pushes his knees apart, slides down the bed until Zayn's over him. Niall's wearing loose ball shorts and Zayn's wearing sweatpants and nothing's interfering._

_"Fuck what I said."_

_"Yeah, fuck it," Zayn tries to laugh. But amusement died moments ago._

_They do have sex. More than once._

_When they're called to meet up in London a few days later, Niall thinks Zayn sorta understands just how incredible he is._

{~*~}

It’s fucking hell. Goddamn, it’s all fucking hell when Niall finds out he has to leave on a wheelchair.

He can walk. He’s a little wobbly and his knee’s acting up but he _is_ mobile; he can walk to the elevator without problem and get dressed sitting on the mattress. So fuck the hospital policy, he’s not leaving via wheelchair. He’s not fucking handicap.

“I’m not fucking handicap,” he spits at Zayn when he arrives, after Mia informed him he can go home. (There’s really nothing the hopsital can do for him, at this point. “Just stick to your prescription,” Mia had smiled, softening the actual meaning of it all.)

“I know you’re not,” Zayn tries to soothe, standing in front of Niall where he’s sitting on the edge of the mattress, regular attire on his back with a sweater to cover his growing belly. Zayn keeps looking at it, can’t keep his eyes off Niall. And Niall doesn’t know if it’s because he’s so evidently pregnant or because their last conversation is still seeping along the edges of today. “I know you can walk--”

“So I’m going to walk,” he roughly dismisses, waiting for Zayn to move away so he can stand up without him fucking breathing down his neck.

God, Niall’s so damn angry and horny and fuck, he’s _hungry_.

Zayn ignores him, only moves away when a nurse rolls a wheelchair in the room and Niall’s shaking his head before Zayn fully takes a step back.

“No. No no no,” he repeats. He’s being such a dick, he knows. And maybe this is all going to be in the papers tomorrow and talked about for days. He _knows_ the devices and workings of media. But he can’t give a damn if he was paid to.

What’s money, anyway.

“Sir,” the nurse gently advises, “It’s the institution’s--”

“Nope,” he firmly shakes his head, standing up to prove his point. It’s a little rocky, when he stands up and tries to straighten his legs. He’s a minute away from buckling, snapping the joints in his legs but he can’t see his knees when he looks down, only the firm stretch of cotton over his stomach.

For this moment in time, this drastic moment, he doesn’t want to go through this. Doesn’t want to know what’s held for him after this is all over. Doesn’t even _know_ what’s waiting for him in just a few months.

He sighs, leans back against the bed and looks to the ground. The lady’s still talking, a feminine voice beyond a door he doesn’t want to open.

He doesn’t want a lot of things right now.

“Zayn, please tell her to go,” he pouts. He’s burdened even more when he collapses back, grips the sheets behind him barely on time. “Zayn, just tell her to stop,” he covers his face.

He does want to go home. He sets a positive list in his mind. He wants to be home, wants his daughter and wants his unborn child to be healthy, no matter the cost. He oddly wants Zayn home, too; only because he isn’t stupid, he knows he can’t do all the things for Avery for the meantime. Zayn’s the first one he trusts with their daughter and despite what he did, what he committed; despite the fact Zayn cheated on him, that will never change.

He loves his family more than anything and it’s all shit.

“She’s gone,” Zayn says softly, then. He’s closing the door, muting the ruckus outside the door and walking back to Niall with caution in his step.

His hair’s down, black strands falling over his forehead and down his neck. It’s so thick, so shiny and Niall knows how it feels beneath his fingertips. His eyes are dark today, bright around his pupils and he’s not trying to look sexy but dammit. He never had to try.

“Preston had a few of his men stop by,” Zayn says, sitting next to Niall like they have all the time in the world. It’s anything but. “They’re waiting outside the door whenever you’re ready but I won’t rush you.”

Niall nods and looks away. He knew they were just a few feet apart from them so he doesn’t know why Zayn’s saying it now. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Just not getting in that awful wheelchair.”

Zayn smirks, releases a short laugh through his nose and nods. It’s genuine, the gesture. His whole presence is genuine and it’s so difficult keeping in mind that he cheated.

Niall doesn’t forget, will never forget what Zayn did but. But he’s tired. He’s embarrassingly tired of holding up this mask, this crumbling facade that he fell out of love just because he cheated. And that’s such a bitch, this vital piece of logic he wishes he didn’t know.

He’s not stupid. He can’t stop loving Zayn when _he_ did the wrongful act, when _Zayn_  might've fallen out of love. The only thing he can do is hope he makes it out of all this alive. He can hope they’ll eventually grow past this burn to take care of their daughter without a pendulum threatening to splice them apart. But that’s it.

He loves Zayn, loved him the second he witnessed the full effort he put into their first song choice. He’s in love with Zayn, wants to wring his neck and make love to him at the same time, but.

But that’s it. He loves him, won’t ever be happy with him again, though.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.”

It’s Zayn voicing this, cutting Niall’s internal mess and softening the moment.

Niall turns to him, finds the man looking at the floor.

“What do you mean?”

“I--” he flails a hand to himself in disgrace before pointing towards Niall's belly, “you’re pregnant, and I don’t know what to do with all of this.”

“Well,” Niall swallows, shrugging pitifully. “There’s really nothing to know, so.”

Zayn looks up at him with a frown. A deep frown pressed into his mouth that won’t go away. At one time in life Niall would’ve set himself in gear, knew just what to say or do to erase that sad expression from his husband’s face.

Now he only mirrors it. Feels the corners of his lips pulling down more so.

 

“Look at this, Jay,” Niall mutters a week later, scrolling through his timeline. “You're trending for the second time.”

The hospital's hallway runs the perimeter of the building, a perfect square Niall has to walk through for approximately thirty minutes. Or until the baby moves. Today's he going to be told if it's a girl or a boy, but the fetus' legs are closed and he needs to move around to get them open. So fucking priceless, he knows.

His earphones busted just three days prior so it's not liking there's an alternative. He can't listen to the playlist Harry made him years ago that possesses the needed melody to kickstart his lazy motivation.

He's too enraptured on the virtual device in his hand, answering a few tweets and posting a filtered picture of when he and Avery were having a lazy morning earlier, that he doesn't notice Zayn there until the rustle of his jacket.

Zayn's patting his jacket down, trailing rain droplets behind him and running a hand through his hair, raven black and drenched. From this far, only half the hallway, really, Niall can see his shivering, balling his fists and forcing his jaw to stop its chatter.

“Um,” is all Niall's able to express when Zayn's in front of him, waiting for his next move. “I didn't tell y--”

“Harry did,” Zayn clarifies with a nod, sliding his hands in the back pocket of his jeans. They're dirty and tattered obscenely on one knee and his black sneakers he owned since the beginning of their third tour are no better. “Didn't know you were gonna be alone, so.”

“So you just. . . showed up?” Niall asks, more intrigued than anything. “Where's Avery?” he continues when Zayn only stares at him.

“With Liam, now. He, um,” he clears his throat, rolls his shoulders to make the clinging cold go away. “He texted me, knew you were here. Wanted Anthony to meet his godsister, something of that sort.”

Niall slowly nods. Two quarters of the remaining strip of floor is left to go through before he turns left to start the next lengthy stroll but he can't find it in him to move. “So you. . . just showed up?”

“I didn't know you were here alone,” Zayn repeats with emphasis.

“And you thought I'd enjoy your company?”

It's harsh. It's brittle and Niall suddenly feels cold, also. Some unknown chill is scraping down his back, igniting a freezing flame to engulf his whole body. Zayn doesn't respond, doesn't look away and doesn't give Niall the satisfaction that he's won. So Niall does what he always does when he's cold, when he's uncomfortable with the entire situation; he walks. He walks away and maintains a steady pace despite the growing elephant attached to his stomach and he knows before he even hears boots hit the linoleum floor that Zayn's following.

“No, I _don't_ , actually. I'm not stupid,” he eventually answers. He's standing close to Niall and Niall forgets halfway with his head tilted that he can't lean on Zayn if he wanted to. He can't lean on his husband for support when he needs it.

Seriously. It's such a bitch walking lately.

“Hm,” he acknowledges, scrolling through his phone again so Zayn can get the message clearly.

He doesn't, though. He'll never get the point.

“Hey,” he stands in front of Niall, a glare quickly pressing over his features. “I get it, Niall, all right? I fucked up. _I fucked up_. Big time. But I'm not a pushover.”

“No one said you were,” Niall deadpans. He's so fucking ready for Zayn to lash at him. God, he wants to fuck the daylights out of him.

What.

“You're distracting me,” he settles on, moving around Zayn. “I need to walk for a good half hour and you shouldn't even be here right now.”

“That's not the point.”

“Why are you even here?” Niall asks with disgust, turning around because Zayn doesn't get it. He doesn't fucking get it and Niall shouldn't have to deal with his trash at the moment. “Seriously, Zayn. You know you could've stayed home with Ems, yeah?”

“I didn't want you here alone.” Zayn. He's such a poor soul. “I don't want you here alone.”

“Well. I am. Okay?”

“You don't get it,” Zayn shakes his head.

They're at a goddamn hospital. And Niall doesn't see anyone hiding behind a corner with a camera pointed towards them but you can never be so sure. You Can Never Be So Sure Of Anything, he believes.

“You don't get it when I say I love you. Don't you?” Zayn pouts, leaves the dripping strand of hair over his forehead. “God, I fucking love you. I said it before and I said it after and I'm saying it now and you don't _get it._ ”

“Why the fuck should I believe you?” Niall laughs. A nurse walks by, barely acknowlegdes them before her feet are inaudible. “I have no reason to believe you, Zayn. You love me? A group of shit words is supposed to change this? C'mon, Z,” he complains. “Why should I even believe you?”

“Because I have nothing else to lose.”

The phone in Niall's hand slips before the tips of his fingers catch it, holding onto the smooth edge. He stops walking, stops breathing, stops living for a drastic moment. He stands in the shade, in an even darker hall, with only Zayn in front of him, mirroring his broken stance.

“That's,” Niall licks his lips when he surveys the hallway. They're alone, a lone stretcher by an open door and a few empty chairs scattered. “Zayn, that's really,” _unfortunate_ , is on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill over. But it's filled with so much sarcasm, dripping this disgusting ooze of bitterness that Niall swallows it. Not here. Maybe not ever or just not yet. But not here.

“Okay, Zayn,” he sighs. _Your dad's a cunt, Jay_ , he thinks, tapping a finger under his bellybutton. "Fine, Zayn. C'mon, then.” He continues walking, doesn't need to look to hear Zayn following him. “You have nothing to lose? Think you hit rock bottom, huh?”

Niall's malicious, biting the thin skin of his bottom lip with a fake laugh.

“I don't want to fight,” Zayn soothes. He walks silently, keeps a heavy space between them but Niall still feels him everywhere. Niall could pounce on him, burn his skin onto Zayn's or throw him down the steps. And it wouldn't make a difference. It never made a difference.

“We're not fighting,” he shrugs, looking straight. It's actually stupendously hilarious the fact he can't stride away if he wanted to. Instead he takes short steps, tries to keep pressure off the heels of his feet, shudders when he overstraightens his back. It's stupendously hilarious because if not it's sad. It's sad and so, so tiring.

A sigh stresses out of Niall's throat when he leans into the wall. There are chairs a few feet in front of him, offering a quick rest while he gains a normal breathing but that's not on the agenda. It's not on his today's list to take a break and waste time when nothing matters more than walking at the moment. He has to _walk_. Move his legs and stretch his abdomen with each inhale. And just that alone is so tiring.

“Fuck, I'm tired,” he breathes, rubbing his forehead gently. Zayn's standing in front of him, inches away with balled up hands in pockets to keep from touching Niall, gripping under his elbow for help, sliding down his back just because he fucking wants to.

“Do you--” Zayn contemplates, clearing his throat with a quick look to the floor. “Do you need water? Think for Ave, you, like. Took a break in the middle and drank a bottled water for the meantime. It helped, a little.”

“Yeah, until I had to take a piss every ten minutes,” Niall smiles, pushing off the wall shakingly. Just a few more steps. After every few steps, he’ll tell himself just a few more. “Don’t think I wanna repeat of that.”

“Mia got so mad,” Zayn chuckles quietly, scratching his nose before stuffing his hands deep in his pockets again. “She couldn’t get just one look without you squirming that your bladder was gonna burst.”

“Right,” Niall agrees, looking over to Zayn when they start walking again. “Didn’t she send me home? Or just gave me a half-assed physical?”

“No, that was when you came for a new prescription for the antenatal vitamins. She didn’t need to check you then, but whatever. But _this_ time, what we’re talking ‘bout _now_ ,” he laughs, flicking his gaze over quickly, “Was when we had to make sure she flipped over, that she was head down.”

“Okay, I remember!” Niall beams, stopping just for a moment. His knee’s straining, bending under the extra weight and it’s difficult getting it back into alignment. “Ems’ head kept jabbing into my bladder, what do you expect.”

“Nothing, babe,” Zayn chuckles, watching his feet move him ahead. “You were just a right mess.”

This is nice. This is okay. This is _fine_. Niall doesn’t have a say, anyway. He can’t be picky so this is fine.

He'll take what he gets.

 

Niall freezes the moment Mia squirts the ultrasound gel over his stomach, the clear glob immediately being spread to cover the area. The arm behind his head tenses, a breath rushed through his nose that he tries to calm but that's really cold and the wand's a merciless rod pushing around his belly.

Zayn taps his chest, a silent question. _You alright?_

"Cold," Niall mutters when he turns to him. Zayn's staring back at him, the gold in his eyes muted from the glare of the machine Mia's working with. He doesn't have hair on his face today, sculpted features on view for everyone. Niall doesn't remember him shaving so it must've been while he was already here. He wonders if Ems was still there; if she was, most likely Zayn indulged her, lathered pasty foam around her face. Niall just pictures her laughing. He's unaware he's smiling to himself until Zayn stiffens slightly, gives his own careful grin. "What do you want?" Niall asks him.

"Pardon?"

"A boy or a girl?"

"Oh. Uh," Zayn drawls in thought, looking to the floor with a furrow between his brows. "Dunno, don't think I can handle a fiery boy jumping around. But then Ave's the only princess in my life, I won't know how to divide that with another girl."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Niall nods. He does. It sounds harsh spoken outloud but he genuinely knew what it felt like to wonder how in the world was he going to start loving another girl when he gave so much to Avery. But now he loves his unborn child in a whole other way. Not more than his daughter, nor less; just differently, equally. "If it's a girl she's gonna be like me, fuck that. I want my own mini me."

"Avery is your mini me. Once she starts liking something, she'll never shut up about it."It's said in good humor, just a little uneasiness tinting the words because Zayn doesn't know what's allowed and what's not. He's trying, he's really trying and no one sees that more than Niall. Niall is trying to hold onto the angry fire in himself, but he has to at least give Zayn credit for trying.

"You want a boy, don't you? You look like you want a boy."

"Honestly?" Zayn bites his lip with a gentle shrug. "Not really picky. Just want my baby healthy."

"But you'll have a boy with your last name. Then when they're older they can continue the Malik generation."

"I thought you were going to give it your last name." His voice is so small, the complete opposite of Zayn. There's nothing small on Zayn and he's giving Niall a steady look, doesn't want to appear how frazzled he feels but Niall knows him. And Niall's also given that a lot of thought, but. He wants his kids to have the same last name.

"Well. I have Theo to depend on for more Horan babies. Don't think your sisters will give a child their maiden name." Zayn gives a little nod, this tiny laugh as he grazes a hand towards Niall's hip. "They haven't before."

"You've given this a lot of thought."

"And you haven't?"

He doesn't answer. It could be because he doesn't know what to say or he completely knows what to say. But Mia begins speaking to both of them. It's a nice change.

"Okay," she starts. "Everything looks fantastic, I'm proud of you, Niall. The baby's growing splendidly." She moves the wand, the thumping wet sound of a fast beating droning on and on.

"Is that. . . ?" Zayn barely asks, sitting up straight in his seat.

"Yes it is, that's the heartbeat. Very stabilized for a five-month old. The placenta's still intact, that's actually a constant problem with male pregnancies, they burst too soon and. Well, the result isn't good," she informs. Niall doesn't answer; that sounds more scary than she's letting on. "Those are the-- Wait, he keeps moving, can't get a look at his feet."

Niall laughs. "Yeah, s'quite a kicker. Can't keep still for--"

"Did you say 'he'?" Zayn interrupts. "Wait, y-- you did. You did, was that intentional or?"

"Ah damn, did I?" she groans, looking back at the screen. "Wasn't meant to say it outloud."

"We're having a boy?”

“I was supposed to walk you through this tour, don’t ruin it,” she mildly complains, but she’s giving up with a stubborn smile on her face. “Yeah, Zayn. You’re having a boy,” she sighs.

“How do you already know?” Niall incredulously asks, leaning back on his elbows to peer closer to the screen. He doesn’t see a dick anywhere.

“I caught a picture of it right before he moved. Let me see if I can. . .” She moves the wand again, presses right above Niall’s bellybutton before rubbing the area. “Can’t-- Okay! Okay, right there,” she points. There’s a jut sticking out between two curvy pillars. “There’s your boy’s sex.”

“I can’t see, lemme see,” Niall rushes, and unfortunately he moves forward with it and the image is erased, the beating no longer filling the room. Niall instantly stills, stops breathing all together and grips the sheet beneath him. “What. . . what happened? What went wrong?”

Bless Mia, because she only softly chuckles and rearranges Niall until he's laying back down. "Silly," she politely scolds, "Nothing went wrong, you just moved. Now I can't find it."

It might be the fact that Mia's calm enough for the three of them, but Niall knows it's actually Zayn's knuckles rubbing against his neck that settles him down, makes him pliant and slightly more assured than before. He just feels like the ball's going to drop at any moment, a moment he's not prepared for and there'll be nothing left to do. So far it seems fine, it _seems_ fine, so. He'll take what he'll get; no matter how miniscule, he'll take advantage of it all.

"Okay," he sighs, breathing deeply frequently to gather what he wants to say. "Okay, so everything's fine, right? That's what you're saying?"

"Everything's _more_ than fine," Mia says positively, but the curve between her eyebrows is uncertain. "It's. . ." she continues, moving the wand around, snapping a photo of the screen every few angles and Niall doesn't understand any of it. "It's all spectacular, really. Don't get me wrong, Niall, I'd _hope_ it all go well, but. . .this," and suddenly she laughs, clasps a hand over her mouth halfway. "Please, excuse me. It's just. There's not a lot of research on second male pregnancies, but there's enough to know most critical complications happen near the middle of the second trimester and. . ."

"And?" Zayn pesters when she doesn't say anything for a few more seconds.

"And everything's running smoothly," she turns to him, narrowing her eyes. When she looks at Niall her face softens. "Sweetie, I don't want to alarm you, but I'd rather you're informed than ignorant. Just because everything's good now doesn't mean it'll stay that way, okay?"

She talks to him like he's a kid and Niall hates that. Hates that he's always the baby in everything, since the beginning. "Got it," he nods, because at the end of the day she's on his side. She knows an abundance of the situation and so far Niall hasn't heard any personal details being broadcasted on the morning radio show he tunes into.

"Just be careful, is what I'm saying. Do you need anything else?"

"Can I see my son's prick now?" He sounds more thrilled than rude, and he hopes that's what's conveyed when Mia goes to add more of the goo on top of the growing mess on Niall's stomach. Zayn laughs when he asks this, an abrupt breath of mirth spilling out before he presses a fist against his mouth mid-chuckle. "What's so funny?" Niall smiles, waiting (im)patiently till Mia finds his son's-- _son_. Oh my God.

"Nothing, just. Of course you'd ask that. M'not surprised."

"Holy shit, Zee," is all he says, too clogged up with emotions that he's having a boy. A _boy_. He has his princess, and now he's having a little prince and that's really. Holy shit, that's really _big_. "Zee, we're having a boy! Another set of balls running around the house!"

"Jesus Christ," Zayn mutters, tapping his forehead with a finger while shaking his head. Mia just laughs with him; it's hard not to.

"Okay, babe," she says, grabbing Niall's hand for his attention. "Before he moves again, look. Your baby's little penis," she coos.

"Don't call it little. He's gonna be a big boy, watch. M'calling it now.” He’s rambling, he knows. He also knows that there’s a baby boy inside of him, that he’s going to have a boy, a male. “That’s my little boy,” he can’t help but softly say when Mia shows them the view of the bottom of his feet. They keep shifting, overlapping. And as they move fervently Niall can feel the little ripple right above his hips, in sync with the motion. “Zee, that’s our little boy,” he whispers low enough that Zayn doesn’t hear him. Instead, the tan man has a fixed stare on the screen. Niall can’t decipher if it’s incredulity or fear.

“Aw, look,” Mia chuckles. “He’s sucking his thumb.”

“Take a picture,” Niall barks, pointing roughly. “I want that, can you take a shot of that?”

“I’m taking clips of all this, don’t worry. And they’re yours.”

 _Wow_. That’s all Niall can think, not even say. Just, wow. And when he goes to tell Zayn this, he finds him intently staring at the picture, blinks ceaseless and a red mouth open.

“Wow,” Zayn mouths. Maybe Niall wasn’t meant to see that, but. Wow is right.

 _Wow_.

 

“Look, Zayn, he looks like me,” Niall smiles, holding a black ultrasound print by his face. Zayn looks at him at a red light, raises his eyebrows and bites down a chuckle.

“Looks exactly like you, babe. That’s all you.”

“S’all me,” Niall murmurs, comparing different slips and flipping through them and taking more photos of them on his phone. He wanted to drive at first, was drastically resistant when Zayn offered, but now in the passenger seat with nothing to focus on, this arrangement worked out perfectly. He can focus on the dark strips on his lap. He has a few of Jay’s feet and many of him from the side, a fist against his mouth. There’s a blurry one that just barely shows his face but Niall can pinpoint the eye sockets and the full nose. There are two of his little (“Big, Zayn. _Big_.”) willy and Niall doesn’t know which one he wants to look at most. After he eats.

“Can you pull up here?” he asks Zayn, pointing at a Pizza Hut. “I’m starving. Like, really fucking hungry. Think all this excitement is killing me energy.”

“Yeah, of course. You’re ordering the usual?” The usual’s a Meat Lover large pie with two orders of breadsticks, but. He doesn’t want the usual.

“Nah, I’m gonna check inside.”

“Inside?” Zayn asks, stopping the car before entering the drive-thru.

“Yeah, wanna take me time looking at the menus. Is that a problem?” Niall challenges.

“I just think,” Zayn points ahead, “The drive thru. Kinda quicker, won’t bump into people, you know? Unless you don’t mind that.”

Niall deadpans at him, blinks slowly once to get his point across before sighing. “Fine,” he breathes, settling back in his seat. He smirks when Zayn’s in line. “But you’re ordering.”

“Wha-- No. No, I don’t order.” Niall simply shrugs, turns the other way to hide his smile. The car in front of them moves forward and Zayn tenses up. “Niall, you know I don’t order.”

“God, Zayn, it’s just talking.” Zayn’s face could kill. Well, it always did. “You’re a big boy. You’ll do fine,” he continues, brushing it off with a lazy hand in the air. When he looks again Zayn seems ready to chew him alive. “Didn’t you say you had a lot to make up for?”

Niall doesn't mean for it to sound as ominous as it does. It's a joke, a meddling pull to stabilize them both in the middle. Because Niall couldn't be any more happy and Zayn's on this farther side, hesitant behind a glass wall with an inquisitive smile, like he's not allowed. And Niall could-- _should_ \--feel powerful, euphoric that he has the leverage. But he's too full of simply genuine elation, as if all the bottled bliss will burst through soon with the compact pressure. And Zayn's a complete statue, immobile with a frozen mouth and rooted features, on a whole other place instead of next to Niall. (It reminds him of that night, when Zayn stood frozen ahead of him while the gruesome truth took form in his head, when everything he loved crumbled and Zayn was the only worthless thing left standing.) Right now Niall wants him _here_ , only for the sake of his well being because he doesn't know how long this happiness is going to last and he wants to bask in it with Zayn as well.

"Hey," he goes to console, a steady hand on Zayn's arm that's anything _but_ steady. "Hey, I'm just joking, Zayn." He is. He really is, in a twisted way he deserves to spit out. He deserves to wreak havoc over Zayn for a long, long time if he pleases. All he wants, though, is to enjoy a day with his husband, a day that won't exist tomorrow. "Zayn, you don't--"

"What do you want?" he interrupts, tapping the steering wheel quickly with a thumb. His jaw jumps with each second Niall doesn't respond while he blinks repeatedly looking out the window, the gold in his eyes freezing with the rest of him. Niall doesn't know what he wants, goes to tell Zayn this, that he hasn't read the menu yet when Zayn's quick to clear, "I don't mean this. From me. _From me_. What do you want from me?"

Niall wants. . . well, not a lot from him. He wants him to take care of their daughter, wants him to be an even greater father than ever in case of anything. He wants Zayn to cry mercy and miraculously admit it was all a joke. A sick, horrible months-old joke that he cheated when in actuality he was just really insecure and wanted to see Niall's reaction. But Niall isn't birdbrained enough to believe that. He also wants Zayn to pull into the drive-thru because if he can't do anything about to perpetual boner Niall sports he can at least gift him the coveted Pizza Hut food he craves.

But now is not the time nor place for playful banter. Now isn't the time to soothe the crumbling air with a soft quip or a delicate hand balancing in the crease of Zayn's elbow to ground him as well. Niall can't tell if Zayn's shivering or burning. "I don't. . . I was only kidding," he says, more softly than he should but his day is great and he wants to keep it that way. Zayn, in this state of fiery shock, is going to ruin that.

"It was really twice," Zayn mutters, dropping his hands onto his lap and sinking into the seat. Niall thanks God there aren't any cars waiting for them to move forward. They're stuck here with no interruptions. Maybe that's what they needed all along.

"What do you mean?"

"I had sex with her twice. She blew me once, and." He's rambling, gesturing wildly with a hand like that'll deliver the message clearer. "I couldn't get you out of my head, I swear to God, Niall. Like, I--" A gust of air escapes him in place of whatever he was going to say next. This aborted move dissolves Niall's efforts at keeping control because. This is it. This is what he's been waiting for and avoiding with everything he could've summoned.

"You believe me, when I say I love you, right?" Zayn asks out of nowhere, after Niall counts fifteen seconds of pitch silence. The kind of stark silence that gets uncomfortable in half that. Niall's honest, isn't he? So of course, with a bit of reluctance, he tells the truth.

"Yeah." In the space of the next few seconds he swallows to fill the emptiness. "Yeah, Zayn. I do." He might regret admitting that. He might not. Right now Zayn's frayed enough for the both of them and that's all that matters. "Do you want to do this now?" he goes on to ask.

Zayn's quick to shake his head. "No, no I don't, but if I don't do this now I never will and. You haven't asked me before, like." He grips the wheel again when he turns to Niall. "Do you want to hear this? I'll stop. Oh my God, babe, I didn't-- I didn't mean to be graphic, that's not. Nothing was--"

"It's fine, Zayn, I'm. I want to know."

They should park, maybe steer into the right empty space next to Zayn. But Niall doesn't mention it. And Zayn doesn't move besides nodding with a hushed _okay_ under his breath.

"I'm not. I'm not good with talking, with trying to explain what I mean to say, you know that, Niall. So, please, if. If I can ask for one thing, just please keep that in mind. What I did wasn't excusable, it wasn't smart and it only made a bigger fucking mess. And this is all my fault, I get it, okay?"

Niall doesn't get it. He doesn't get why they're doing this now, when a nearby pap could spot them; or a fan may recognize the car, inch closer until there's no use in escaping. He vows to not be seen with Zayn in public, no matter the odds. He won't show that they're together, since they're not. Everyone knows he took off his ring, anyway. He won't be seen with Zayn because he'll fail himself, that he gave in and forgave him. He didn't; might not. But that's another time. Not now. "Okay," he responds.

Zayn falls further back, curves his shoulders with a resigned breath towards the windshield, like that wasn't the answer he was looking for. "It was in May, after we set up the playground for Ave. I don't remember how it started, or why. But you were so caught up in your own stuff, you know? And that wasn't a problem, I just. Couldn't get to you. And we barely spoke unless it had something to do with the bank or our girl or. Something _else_. And every time I tried to talk about us, about _you_ or _me_ , it was brushed aside. Dammit, Niall, I sound so fucking needy, but I'm not. I'm _not_ and--"

"You're not needy," Niall interjects gently when he realizes Zayn needs a moment to inhale oxygen into his body. He waits for Zayn to continue.

"I'm not. But I wanted you around, _here_. And you were off, doing shit. And I was happy for you, I was. You wrote music for that X Factor contestant and produced some of the tracks from their album, you were happy. And that's all I wanted, but. You weren't here," he says more lowly than the rest. "And she. Niall, I stopped speaking to her that night I came home, I couldn't take it." _Do I give a fuck?_ Niall wants to spit. "But before, she. She'll talk to me, she was only an accomplice, not even that. She worked with coloring the animation at the studio, and she was around. I never told her anything but she was around and. Fuck, I hated her back then but. She wouldn't shut up. And I couldn't stop thinking about you, at home. So I. That happened and I was fucking mortified. It didn't help at all when I _thought_ it would and maybe that's a good thing, because it makes me feel even shittier and I deserve fuck--"

A horn blares behind them, shatters the chipping situation of it all into a million pieces. Niall believes if he feels down his shirt he might find a shard or two of their chaos, a tangible object of their mess.

When Zayn's safely parked and thumping a finger against the steering wheel, Niall speaks; it doesn't seem like Zayn will.

"So you cheated. . .because I wasn't around? Because I forgot about you?"

Zayn closes his eyes and flares his nostrils, stresses his jaw with a minute shake of his head; it's not an answer, though.

"Zayn," Niall murmurs, finding the audacity to reach a hand over to Zayn's on the wheel. "Z, m'not accusing you or, none of that. I'm just trying to understand it all."

"M'just, so fucking sorry," he says behind his teeth. "I fucking ruined it and. You're pregnant, you shouldn't have to go through this shit. Christ, I fucked up--"

"Don't beat yourself up. That's my job."

Zayn releases a hiccup of a laugh, raises his eyebrows in disbelief before settling down as much as he can.

"Zayn?" He waits until Zayn's looking at him before he speaks. "If I'm being honest, I don't know what to believe from you, I don't. And you can't expect me to take this all in and be okay with it." Niall's not. And it's only for the prescription he takes that works to calm his systems and the news of his baby boy that he isn't crying, or screaming, or punching Zayn; kicking him, too. Maybe choking him simultaneously. "But. I was going to hear this eventually, and I'd rather hear it from you than her."

"You won't. Trust me, I haven't seen her since."

"Good. She had better quit after fucking my man."

The bottom drops. Along with the walls and the ceiling's flicked away until Niall's falling in a spiraling black abyss. His spleen is at his ass, honestly. That's not. No, Zayn isn't his man. Zayn is _not_ his man. They're not together, Niall hates him. Fucking--

"She didn't quit. I did."

"You quit your fucking project?!"

Zayn gives a few vague gestures until finally nodding, biting the corner of his lip. Niall feels. . . Well part of him is smug as fuck; Zayn quit his lifelong dream for him, of fucking course he's cocky. But the rest, which is the rest of his body and the space they're inhabiting in the car along with the pavement beneath them and the traveling cars are. They're all fucking horrified.

"You didn't," Niall shakes his head. "No, you didn't. You didn't quit the fucking thing you talked about for years, Zayn. You're not fucking stupid enough to. . . " He trails off when Zayn gives no response, nor deny. Niall sits back in his seat and faces forward. That surprised him way more than the explanation. Only because Niall knew; ha, Niall already knew he cheated, big deal, right? Zayn cheated, three times. Still three because sucking dick is still oral sex. Whoopee. Cheers. But. . . Niall didn't know that, wasn't expecting that. "Since when?" he asks after three cars drive by.

"That night."

"You're fucking kidding me."

"I didn't plan it, alright? I didn't plan to go in there, make a scene, and. Like, resign with a bang, no. I couldn't stay there anymore. She was still there. And I couldn't tell them to fire her, who was I? So I left. And I came home to tell you everything and then." Niall suddenly isn't so hungry. Just a little, because he's always hungry. But he's filled with so much disappointment. In Zayn, in himself, that whore. So much disappointment. "Liam called," Zayn informs, making Niall turn to him. "I was getting in my car when Li called and told me."

This is all so wrong, on so many angles. Niall's mood is tampered, below average. Zayn's been below for months. And Niall would never admit this out loud, because this is all so hard for himself also, but with Zayn sunk in his seat with despair and guilt and so much doubt dirtying his skin, he can see a little visual of the pain Zayn's going through. Sees this is anything but easy for him, too.

With a tired breath, Niall exhales through his mouth, rubs his stomach in comfort, letting Jay know they'll get food soon, _I'm hungry as fuck, too, love, hold on._ "Let's go home," Niall shrugs, turning to Zayn with a bored look. "After picking up Ems, we'll ask her what she wants to eat. If she wants something out here we'll get it. If she wants something home you're cooking," he mutters.

Zayn's eyes are wide, like he expected anything but that to leave Niall's mouth. Like he expected there wasn't a home for him to go home to anymore. But Zayn, always ahead and quick, nods and turns on the car, doesn't ask anything else.

It can be that the silence is Zayn not allowing himself the luxury of speaking freely with Niall. Or simply, he doesn't want to talk. Niall doesn't bother filling the silence. Too much has been laid out in this small space. Time's needed to empty it out, to let the lingering words squeeze through the cracks and vents until the air's clear enough to breathe.

It's not until they get home that Niall feels a little better, kind of weightless in a way. Like he's free of something. He feels lighter, and as Avery's waiting impatiently by the door, shivering from the cold as Zayn runs up the steps to hurriedly open it, this is fine. A lot is so messed up, but so much more is still intact, better than what it was before. Maybe being grateful of what's left can make a difference.

There's a lot left. Everything he loves is patching up again, slowly coming together with uneven stitching but.

It's so much better than before in a drastic way.

 

"Ems," Niall calls, laying down on the sofa with a forearm over his eyes. He doesn't know how long he's been asleep, honestly. But he feels well rested and it seems to be the same day since his empty bag of crisps is still on the table in front of him; Zayn would've thrown it out. Even more so he'd wake Niall up to go upstairs.

"Ems!" he hollers after he doesn't hear anything. She comes stomping down the stairs soon, an audible groan in her voice. Standing in front of him, she puts a hand on her hip and sighs, _what?_ "Whoa whoa whoa, Miss Diva. Who taught you that attitude? 'Cause it sure as hell wasn't me."

She giggles, drops her arms and sits on the coffee table facing Niall. Instead he gestures for her to join him, scoots near the edge so she'll fit between him and the back of the sofa.

"Did you eat yet?" he asks.

"Yeah, Baba made homemade spaghetti and meatballs. And he let me help!"

"Really?" he beams, excitement on as he peers down where she's resting her head over his chest. "What did you do, babe?"

She sits up and goes on to explain how she balled up the ground meat and pinched oregano and basil seasonings over them before Zayn put them in the oven. She uses her chubby tan hands and occasionally pushes her black hair aside, unconsciously places strands behind her ears as she blinks blue eyes between Niall and the telly. In between words she laughs, pink mouth open in glee and Niall doesn't know what exactly she's laughing at because he's too preoccupied with her brilliance to pay attention, but a smile still sneaks upon his face with a chuckle, left dimple pressed into his cheek.

"Did you like staying over Uncle Liam's?" he asks, after she settles down and hunches forward with the end of her story.

"Yes, it was so much fun," she nods quickly with wide eyes. "Dani let me hold Anthony, he was so small," she squeaks, motioning with her fingers a tiny space. "I fed him a bottle, too, and he held onto my pinky," she laughs. "He was so cute and fat, Daddy. I think he liked me.”

“Of course he liked you, princess. Everyone adores you.” She hums, gives him a soft smile before burying her face in his chest again. Niall can tell without feeling her face that she’s blushing, a red heat covering her cheeks. “So you liked Anthony, then?”

“Mhm. He was quiet and happy. The cutest baby ever.”

Niall wants to tell her she’s still a baby, herself. To him, at least. She’ll always be his baby. “Well,” he says, a hand over his stomach and the other scratching behind her ear, “how would you feel if there was a baby in this house, too?”

Her face curves into confusion, a frown between her eyebrows and the side of her mouth raised. “Here? You’ll take Anthony and bring him here? I don’t think Uncle Li and Dani will like that, Daddy, that’s mean.”

“No, Ems,” he laughs, softly shoving her face aside before bringing her closer. “I mean, what if me and Baba had another baby? Would you like that?”

“You and Baba are having a baby?”

He can’t tell if her humorless face is of surprise or shock. It makes him squirm, unsure how to go about this. “Yeah, isn’t that neat?” he tries, swallowing around the boulder that makes up his throat. “Me, you, and Baba are gonna have a little baby boy soon.”

She taps a finger against her mouth, narrowing her eyes in thought as she thinks. “I’m gonna have a baby brother?” she eventually asks, slowly lowering her hand to look at Niall.  
“You’re gonna be a big sister. A big sister, babe! That’s so cool, right?”

That’s. . . Oh my God, that’s crazy. Avery’s so little, this tiny girl; nothing about her is big and she’s going to be a big sister. _Big_ sister! She’s _already_ a big sister! The first thing Niall’s going to do after giving birth is drink. Or

Well. He hopes he’ll have a drink.

“Yeah,” she soon chuckles, slowly smiling with red cheeks. “That is cool. But I think having a baby brother is so cooler!”

“Whatever you say,” Niall smirks.

It’s an event right after when she gasps and covers her mouth, almost colliding with Niall’s stomach when she goes running away. Niall thinks he’s done something wrong, sits up straight to follow her when he hears the shrill of her voice calling for Zayn.

Zayn comes from the basement, short sweats on with a purple pullover as Avery guides him by the hand towards the living room. She sits him down next to Niall and he immediately exchanges a perplexed look with him before Avery clears her throat in a high-pitched tone and clasps her hands behind her back.

“Baba,” she addresses him, completely serious. Zayn almost looks scared. “I called you because Daddy told me something that you should know. And he just told me hours ago,” she means minutes, but Niall discreetly laughs because she constantly gets the two mixed up, “and I’m gonna tell you now.” She looks to Niall, as if asking for permission. Niall only shrugs, there’s nothing new to tell. So with as much authority her tiny body can muster, she says, “Daddy, me, and you are having a baby in this house. And he is going to be a boy like Anthony.”

Niall guffaws, leans over and slaps his good knee with it while Zayn looks between laughing hysterically until he cries or sighing with so much relief he’ll pass out. Avery looks between the two of them with disgust, like they’re disrespecting her.

“I’m sorry, please continue,” Niall tells her, stifling another frantic laugh. It’s only a matter of minutes later, after Zayn tries to act surprised for a bit before admitting he already knew, and Avery grumps about being told last, that Niall sits her down next to her and grabs her hand. “Look at this, babe, he’s in my stomach, wanna feel him move?”

“He’s in your stomach?!” she gapes, immediately shooting a hand out to feel over the area. “I thought babies were planted in gardens after a rainstorm! That a little seed grew and out came a baby!”

“Who told you that?” he shakes his head, thinking what in the world is wrong with her. She says Zayn taught her, and well; Niall then understands the intense imagery of it. “Why else you thought my belly was getting so big? Surprised you didn’t ask,” he murmurs, feeling around for a push from Jay. Nothing yet, oddly.

“Baba told me you were getting fat, that I couldn’t ask you because I’d hurt your feelings,” she informs, pouting when she doesn’t feel anything.

“Really?” Niall looks to Zayn to find him stuck, a jumping mouth before he mouths _I didn’t know what to tell her_. Niall narrows his eyes menacingly. Or, as menacing as he can; he knows he’s not lethal. “Well, that’s still kind of true, Ems. But Daddy’s having a baby also.”

 “That’s so cool,” she whispers in awe, smiling big and putting her ear over his stomach. Niall should laugh, maybe call her silly and tell her you can’t hear him. But suddenly with her hair of black laying over his stomach with an ear pressed against it, eyes trained down and mouth open in fascination, she strikingly reminds him so much of Zayn. And Zayn, goddamn you, Zayn. Because the years-old memory of Zayn’s ear pressed against Niall, little Ems growing inside him, only fills him up with dreadful, crazy nostalgia. The kind that involuntarily makes him smile and clog up with wet emotion, ready to spill over if he wants to.

He doesn’t want to, won’t ever want to. Whether he’s alone or with Ems and Zayn, Niall will not cry. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not for Zayn; he won’t cry for Zayn. He’ll let Zayn do the crying, the sobbing and begging. He’s already close to it, anyway. 

Niall’s exasperated with this burden he carries, this overwhelming weight pulling him down everywhere he goes. It’s so difficult, on a great day, staying happy and smiling. And he was never like this; he was such a smiler, so carefree; and he still is, under all the stress, he still is. But for now, with the constant reminder of Zayn in the back of his head hammering for his full attention, he won’t be carefree. Because maybe if he wasn’t so careless, this wouldn’t happen. Maybe if he wasn’t so laidback this could’ve all been prevented.

He doesn’t blame himself, isn’t self-deprecating. But he knows he had a minute part in the scandal.

“This is so cool,” Avery says hours later, hand where Jay’s kicking near Niall’s hips. She’s tired, drowsy and giving slow blinks and an even slower smile each time she feels a movement under her palm.

“Right, Ems?” he whispers, lolling his head over to where she’s yawning, a sluggish nod of her head accompanying the gesture. Niall thinks he’ll give her five minutes until she’s out cold, lightly snoring with a hand absently curling through her hair. 

She falls asleep right under four, he timed it.

Niall takes another unplanned nap after that, wakes up about an hour later with Avery upstairs in her room and Zayn watching _Life of Pi._ He doesn’t know Niall’s awake, instead simply facing forward with an arm over the back of the sofa and the other on the armrest, tapping a beat to the current song playing from the television.

It takes a few more seconds before Niall gets up, slowly steadies himself on his feet before walking to the kitchen. He’s a mess trying to cooperate right after waking up; even more so pregnant.

He doesn’t have any odd cravings for once, despite their randomness and oddity. He actually likes a lot of tacos; all the ingredients meshed up in a bowl with a spoon, like a nacho cereal. He loves sugar-drizzled popcorn and can actually get off if he’s given a big plate of string beans and corn. Besides that, he can’t stand mayonnaise anymore, despises anything clean-linen scented and absolutely loathes underwear. So everything might dangle but he feels so fucking _free_. (He always hated clothes in general, though abundantly now, but he can’t _walk_ in his birthday suit _all_ the time.)

After pouring himself a cup of soda and eating a handful of pretzels, retreating to bring the bag with him, he goes back to his spot, finding Zayn already looking at him. He’s about to ask if Zayn wants some when he realizes he kind of doesn’t want to share with the likes of Zayn, anyway. “What?” he does ask.

Zayn shakes his head, turns to the blaring screen. “Nothing, would’ve gotten that for you.”

“Oh.” He looks down at his lap, crumbled blue bag of broken pretzel pieces and glass of caffeine (he really shouldn’t drink that, but in ‘shouldn’t’ there’s ‘should’) by his feet. “Hm. Didn’t mind getting up. Needed to walk, anyway. Been on me arse long enough.”

No one talks after that, and it’s not an uncomfortable silence, either. But then the tv’s turned off after Niall’s done the bag and Zayn places the remote on the coffee table slowly, almost sternly.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn speaks, leaning forward with his hands folded between his spaced knees, already looking at Niall. “For earlier. Well, for everything, but I’m talking about earlier right now.”

Niall does not want to do this. Not when he can't pinpoint when in May everything started falling apart before his eyes, when he was too blind to realize. It's barely midnight, he's hungry and horny all the damn time and Zayn can go somewhere with his apology. But the spaghetti and meatballs from earlier were really good so he won't kick Zayn out just yet. “For calling me fat?” he jokes. Maybe they can laugh this off, call it a night.

“When we were in the car,” he answers, not sparing even a smile. “That shouldn’t’ve been where I said it--”

“You were gonna eventually tell me, so. Whatever, it’s fine,” Niall interjects, shrugging tightly. He goes to bite his thumbnail, cringes when he’s only met with a sting when he bites into a horribly bitten nub. After he drops his hand and Zayn doesn’t say anything, well. It's not done. And Zayn doesn't looks ready to reply just yet, so it's up to Niall to fill the awkward silence. So, they won't be able to call it a night tonight. “Just don’t get it, you know? Why you did it, what went wrong. Or maybe I just don’t believe you. Dunno which one it is yet.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

"Maybe you are, Zayn, maybe you're not," he sighs, suddenly so fucking _exasperated_. "Fucking hell, you don't. Dammit, Zayn, whatever. Not tonight. We're not doing this tonight."

Zayn bites his lip with a sharp nod, looking back to the television, the menu playing over and over again. "Okay," he says, almost challengingly. Almost. "Alright, cool. So when?"

Definitely. Fuck almost. Niall kind of. . . he kind of likes it.

“I don’t trust you, Zayn.” For some odd reason, Niall wants him to continue, _wants_ him to scream, too. He hasn't had any type of rush in so long. God, he wants, _something_.

"Maybe I should've talked to Liam," Zayn goes on, like Niall hasn't said anything. He's speaking calmly and no, Niall doesn't want that. For the first time since finding out he cheated and being informed he was pregnant, Niall doesn't want calm. "I always tell myself, like. Or ask myself what did I not do, to wind up doing that and." He sadly shrugs, Niall feels a little bad. Only because it's impossible for anyone to not feel at least slightly down with the way Zayn looks. "I know I can't justify what I did, that's not what I'm trying to do. I just feel like you deserve a better explanation and I can't _give you one_."

Aw. That is sad. Niall feels like he's watching a sad documentary; he feels sad, but not to the point where he's taking it personally. It's just all. . . sad.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," he does say. Because at the end of the day, Zayn's human. He's not an animal, and Niall isn't going to treat him like he doesn't have regular slip-ups or bad days. It's not excusable, but if Niall was to weigh all the good Zayn's done for him and his daughter to all he's done wrong, Niall can't lie; Zayn's did enough to outweigh anything. Maybe this. But that's heavily arguable and for another time. "I'm sorry you felt alone, that I forgot about you when that's the farthest from it, Zayn. I loved you more than anything, and."

Well, nothing else, really. Niall gets it, in a strange twisted way. He gets it, but doesn't understand, couldn't be able to repeat this to someone else only because it's all so fucked up, unfathomable. Zayn cheated, Niall's pregnant, and yet so much is left unsaid. He also couldn't be able to remember another time when everything felt so vulnerable. But it's. It's more, focused, this quiet air of settled emotions that only seems to spark Niall's skin up more. He wonders if Zayn feels the same. Or what is Zayn feeling in general?

A short laugh escapes Niall, this brash noise that fills the cracks of the filled space. Just this tiny laugh because he doesn't know what he's doing, knows he makes no sense when he shouldn't. He really shouldn't, but. In the word 'shouldn't'. . . right?

“You do love me, right?” Niall asks, and Zayn, he’s falling right where he wants him.

“Niall. I love you more than anything. I can say that forever and I swear that’ll never lose its meaning.”

Cute. _Cute_ , Niall thinks. Kind of heart-warming. Soul-touching. Hormone-arousing.

“I believe _that_ ,” Niall murmurs. “And whether you’re telling the truth or not with everything else, I don’t care right now. Right now I need you to do something for me. Well. Just do something.”  
“What is it?” Zayn asks. He might as well be on his knees, pleading,  _anything_. Really cute. Really fucking arousing.

Niall doesn’t answer. Not verbally, at least. He leans back, spreads his legs wide with a raised eyebrow. He isn’t trying to go for sexy, just communicative. Body language. It’s been months since he had sex. And months of no sex--absolutely no type of sex; not even bad sex--is starting to catch up on him. Holy fuck, he’s been untouched for months, what the actual fuck.

Zayn continues to look at him, unresponsive, so Niall leans his head back to the side, exposes his neck before looking at Zayn, raising both eyebrows. He doesn’t know how to go about this but he’s fucking tonight. No ifs, ands, or buts. Well, butts included but.

Wow, is he high off the pretzels?

"Niall." It's a demand, it's a plea. It's a protest and an urgent warning all at once. It's what Niall expected, actually.

"Was she the last one you fucked?" Niall raises his head, wears a bored pout. Only his insides are firing beyond control and this can go two ways, equally drastic. He's not sure what he wants to hear. If she was, if she wasn't. Niall can't even recall her face clearly, just remembers long black hair.

He suddenly recalls that night, the frozenness of it all, the lies laid out in front of people he genuinely knew, broadcasted to everyone else he didn't. He remembers the way he felt, the way he strived for his daughter to stay oblivious, was so numb and, simply put, incoherently _incredulous_ of it all; the way he couldn't react nor form a single steady thought.

He returns to the _now_ , in his living room with the same daughter soundly asleep upstairs and the same man staring back at him with concerned uncetainty. It's different, a lot is so different. This time last year they were wondering what to buy Harry for his birthday. Now Niall wonders what he's going to do with anything.

"No." Niall hasn't seen Zayn so angry at anyone but himself in so long. It's kind of hopeful, this sense of normalcy. Niall can deal with Zayn being infuriated towards others, not himself. "No, she wasn't. You were."

That's. . . good? Bad? Niall asks Jay what he thinks. _Okay, let's go with good, then. I can deal with good._ He can deal with. . . _this_. He _wants_ this. He's going to take _advantage_ of this because he won't feel this way tomorrow. He doubts this overdose of insouciance is going to last forever.

He would like to fuck Zayn, would like to hear hushed whimpers underneath him, wouldn't mind making it hurt just a little. _A tiny bit_ , he reasons; he's allowed to. He'd like to fuck Zayn into the mattress and make him cry forgiveness again and again, each time in a different position, different way, different tone of voice. He would _love_ to fuck Zayn. But that requires a lot of movement on his part he does not want to do while holding a baby.

"Okay, Zayn." The answer was important, but it didn't entirely matter. He was more curious than desperate. He was _completely_ curious, not desperate at all. "Okay, then. Let's. Let's go upstairs, then." Let no one tell you Niall is a coward.

"You're not serious."

"I am completely serious."

"Niall, you're. You're not. Jesus, this isn't, like." He's flustered, maybe a little embarrassed. It's one of the rare times Niall sees him drowning in crimson, red from his roots, down his hands, filling in the empty spaces of the tattoo on the back of his left palm. It's really nice, one of Niall's favorite looks on him. He might say that to all of them but this is definitely near the top. "I don't know what your game is, but I'm not for it. I'm trying to save the marriage and no. No, I'm not doing this. We're not doing this."

 _There's no marriage_ , Niall instantly thinks. _There's nothing to save_. "Zayn, you haven't gone through what I've been through the past couple months. I didn't even know one person can go through so much pain at a time. And I don't only mean what you put me through," _putting me through_ , "but I'm. So. Tired. I'm so exhausted," he frowns. "It's exhausting, every single day and if I can say yes to this, then." He licks his lips, looks down at his hands. He hasn't played guitar in so long. "I had to struggle in every decision I've made, because what I think and feel are two different things, and I'm so tired of making everything so much bigger than what it is just because it seems like the right thing to do. This isn't me, and it's so hard trying to keep it--"

"Stop." Zayn's there, gently prying Niall's fingers loose from stabbing into his palms. There's a loud sigh, and Niall looks up to find a hurricane going over Zayn's face. "You've said a lot of stuff before, Niall, and. I can't do that to myself if you regret this in the morning."

"Fuck what I said." Just one more wave, one more sail. Zayn's in the blissful eye of the storm.

It's literally, outstandingly, tremendously, _literally_ a shock feeling lips on his skin for the first time in so long. Niall almost loses it, feels like a tangled wire finally being pulled apart, the rusty joints moaning under the stretch.

"M'doing this my way, then," Zayn murmurs, the tickling sensation wetting Niall's neck. He's so slow, and Niall would call it lazy if the long brushes of tongue and sloppy bites on visible veins weren't so intent.

He goes to grab Zayn, because Zayn's not going to have control, tries to sternly say _no_ , but it only comes out breathless when Zayn forces _his_ hands down, keeps them beside his hips. Jesus fu-- He can't breathe. Niall needs to breathe for two people and he barely has energy to expand his ribcage.

He can oddly remember the last time he manhandled Zayn, like, really manhandled the fuck out of him. It was hard and he was sharp with his aims and in the end, everyone was happy. But he can't, and maybe it has something to do with Zayn currently, very gently, pulling his shorts down, but Niall can't remember Zayn mustering the effort to be authorative. He liked to get, and Niall loved to give, so that arrangement worked out perfectly in bed. But right now Niall will let Zayn do anything if he keeps holding him down like this.

"I'm gonna blow you, okay?" Zayn's trying not to show how much this is all effecting him, holding his breath after half an inhale, keeping blinks to a minimum. But Niall sees the shine on his lips and the sweat pooling under his chestplate and he knows Zayn loves sex more than a lot of things. A lot of things. "Gonna, like. Really make you feel it."

"Do it," Niall says, though he's sure the smirk he tries to sport never shows and Zayn's grip on him isn't loosening. So he's in no position to demand. 

He's still trying to smirk, trying to fix his face into a casual expression so this whole dilemma doesn't spiral down something too serious, to the point he stops it and no. He's not going to stop it. Not tonight, at least.

"You're," Zayn starts, fumbling for words, licking his lips again and _again_. "You're already hard, babe. Barely got this going and you're on fire." His touch is barely there, curving over Niall's hip, the heel of his palm leisurely rubbing closer and he's _so slow_.

"Been ready to nut for months," Niall exhales, feeling his own breath blanket the sheen covering his skin. Maybe saying that wasn't a good idea, but he doesn't want Zayn to think he's hard because of _him_. Even though he _is_.

It's a long moment, where Niall swallows a loud exhale and Zayn just peers up at him, runs his thumbs softly over the bone that makes Niall's hips. The moment's lengthened so Niall takes the time to keep from jolting up from the sofa, grips the material under him tightly, almost painfully when Zayn's mouth passes over his dick, makes it all wet for a smooth glide.

Zayn leaves almost kisses over the hard skin, lips not quite meeting each other as his tongue follows, leaves wide trails of spit on either side. Niall can only see the bridge of Zayn's nose and up when he looks down, the stress over dark eyebrows and fluttering of eyelashes when he licks around the slit, pools even more spit there before diving forward.

Niall honestly, incredibly forgot the feel of Zayn's mouth sucking him down. And of course he forgot, of course his mind erased this valuable piece of knowledge. Because if he did remember, if he did remember a hot tongue tracing the vein under his dick, or the fleshy sunction of cheeks framing him as Zayn sucks harder, tighter, then of course he'd have given in to this a long time ago.

Niall hums, or groans, or dies, all at once. He dies and revives when he feels Zayn's mouth opening slightly to take more, tightening around him again when he sinks another inch. His gag reflex is totally under control, and Niall's made sure of that a long time ago. He kind of misses the short chokes and sudden spasms of Zayn's throat around the head of his dick. But this, right now, with soft lips and dripping spit and the tight movement, is so much better.

It's like Zayn's trying to prove himself, that he can do this, that he can have Niall's dick prodding the back of his throat and take it. Maybe he actually can. Maybe he's been hiding this talent of slurping before it gets too messy and moving when his lips are tight enough and wrapping his tongue around him, all the while keeping his mouth sucking in, no space between Niall's dick and the inside of his cheeks. 

Niall's human, just as much of muscle and skin and bone as Zayn, so no one can blame him if he caresses the side of Zayn's face when he pops off to lather the head, little licks in the slit before diving down again, not stopping until his lips squeeze around the base. A tiny cry escapes Niall, this beautiful sound and Zayn stills, brings his gaze up where Niall's head is resting on the back of the sofa, Adam's apple jumping with a tense swallow.

Niall's human, so when Zayn suddenly stops and he doesn't feel nor hear any noises of sucking cock, he looks down, finds Zayn staring at him and immediately shakes his head, using the hand over Zayn's face to frame the back of his skull and push him lower, farther, only stopping to pull him off and down again.

He should stop, maybe be a little careful instead of roughly shoving Zayn down like if there's not a hot pressure near his balls he'll die. But he's reckless, he's horny, and he's so fucking grateful for Zayn's mouth right now. There will never be a better mouth than Zayn's. Zayn's mouth is the rain to Niall's desert: his dick. He should stop, but no one's protesting, and Zayn's taking it, squeezing his eyes shut, even uttering a moan when Niall's hips curl forward at one sloppy thrust.

It's everything Niall's wanted to feel, and so much more than he was ready for. So he doesn't expect it when he comes, the tightened coil of his back that's tighter than Zayn's lips, his wide tongue flattening his dick to the roof of his mouth. He comes with barely a sound, his own tongue caught between his teeth and his hands pushing Zayn even farther to spurt the last few drops even deeper. He doesn't let go until Zayn's pinching his thigh, the distant cough making him wire back to his senses.

He feels as breathless as the way he hears Zayn inhaling, quick bursts of air hitting his knees with each lungful. Niall keeps his eyes closed, slowly brings his head forward until he's blinking up and Zayn's standing up in front of him, broad shoulders rising with each breath and a glossy look in his eye. He doesn't question it when a little later Zayn takes him upstairs, takes him to bed. The only thing he questions is how long he can do this before he passes out.

Next time, if there is a next time, Niall will lead. He will lay Zayn down, make him squirm with his mouth and fingers and sharp teeth. But right now, tonight with Zayn softly putting Niall on his side and sinking down behind him, Niall will allow this. Like, why not? He's pregnant. How alluring can he act until he just gives up and goes straight down to business? Not much.

"Alright," Zayn mutters, more for himself than Niall, actually. "Okay, we'll. This is fine." His breath is hot, stinging the back of Niall's neck and Niall faces the pillow instead, wishes there was another way to do this but his body is craving Zayn like he's the salvation he's been yearning for. Every skin cell, every atom of his, ready to split apart until loose ions dissipate, is charging with the tacky feeling of Zayn pressed behind him. And Niall can't see him, can't decipher the rapid expressions shooting across his face, but he knows just with the tentative fingertips dancing down his side and curling to hold his arse, with the slick already tracing to open him up and the ragged pauses of stillness, he knows Zayn's more distressed than him. Niall _knows_ this, and at any other time he would've made fun, would've snapped his teeth mockingly and caused Zayn to laugh also, or drop his head to hide his dark face. Any other time he would've made it all so amusing. Not this time.

Zayn has his chest pressed against Niall's shoulder blades, letting their sweat mingle as he pushes his middle finger a bit further, waiting for further instructions. Instead Niall's head falls further, chin tucked into his own chest with a shiver releasing where they're pressed together. Zayn pictures bringing his hips over to rub up the small of Niall's back, maybe even chancing a nice, slow slide over the middle of his arse. The image alone has him mouthing at Niall's neck, letting a little teeth graze the damp area with a more forceful jab inside him. Niall likes it rough, and even if he didn't, he wouldn't want soft tonight. Zayn would give anything for sweet sex with Niall, to hold him and whisper all the things he's wanted to say and express for months. But it's not about him. It's not about him. Niall is begging to get fucked for the first time in a _long_ time and it's not about Zayn.

He should ask if this is okay, if Niall's fine, should he curl his finger higher or twist his wrist when he's ready because Niall's so demanding and he explicitly says what he does or does not like. But with no verbal responses-- _vocal_ , yes. Small, almost inaudible mewls he only picks up on since he's paying mind--Zayn tries to discreetly add another finger, brings his other hand down to drip more slick around the rim until two glide in with little resistance.

Zayn gasps, gapes and keeps his mouth open as he starts to _really_ finger Niall, watches them disappear inside him and reappear even wetter. He moves further down, rests his forehead on Niall's back. He wants to bite, wants to sink his teeth deep since he'll combust with only the air caressing his dick, fat and laying over his lower stomach, straining with each of Niall's clenches on his fingers. He wants to bite, but he settles for kissing Niall instead because this may be the only time he can be affectionate, can love Niall like he wants to. Like he's _always_ wanted to and that never, ever changed.

He doesn't realize he's gradually bumping three fingers against Niall's point until Niall's rushing to pull his hand away, slurring profanity towards Zayn and the whole situation and lifting a leg to open himself more, looking back sternly and a bit flushed until Zayn gets the _picture_.

Zayn blinks back, looks away to shake his head and hurriedly gets behind Niall, this time with their shoulders to their legs touching. Niall's on fire, even hotter than Zayn and Zayn needs a moment. He can't say that out loud, not when Niall's impatient and more needy than ever before, but Zayn has to close his eyes and inhale repeatedly to keep from splitting apart. He fingered Niall open and he feels like he's the bare one, out on display and begging for whatever's given to him.

When he shuffles to grip Niall's thigh, right below his pale hand, the base of his dick rubs against the swollen rim, making Niall moan loudly and Zayn shake with a mute cry of his own. There's no point in putting on a condom this far along, and he knows, in the microscopic depths of his clarity that's left that Niall will call him a dumbass, none too pleasantly. So, okay. He can do this. He may want this, but _Niall_ needs it. Or maybe his mind's fooling himself to believe this because if it's anything under he'll stop.

So, with a foggy head and a keening pregnant man in front of him, he forces himself inside Niall, doesn't think until his head's passing the rim a third time and Niall's only encouraging him. He's _encouraging_ , bending his back until Zayn feels the swell of Niall's arse hitting his groin, gripping his thigh tighter, higher so Zayn can sink deeper, so he can feel the swollen tip swipe over his prostate. Niall's never been quiet in bed, to the point Zayn believes he makes it his mission to be as loud as he can. And before Zayn had to hush him or smack a hand over his mouth because despite their daughter's ability to sleep through a plane crash, he doesn't want to _risk_ it. But this time he feels Niall's trying to keep the noises to himself; he only moans with his head thrown back, or whines into the pillow, groans into the back of his hand with each clutch around Zayn's dick.

"Stop," Niall gasps, pushing away from Zayn and moving away. Zayn stays frozen, hard, wet dick flopping down as he peers over at Niall. He's about to ask what happened, what went wrong, _what did he do wrong_ , when Niall grips him tightly around the bicep, struggles to pull him closer until Zayn hovers over a man who's losing it, flushing down his chest and over his stomach, legs splayed apart around him. There's a hand on the bed next to Niall's chest, tan fingers spread under his pale arm. Zayn's other hand is in the air between them, seeking a touch of Niall's face but Niall pushes it away, causes Zayn to lose balance until he's bracketing Niall inside his arms, arched stomach resting under Zayn's and legs tangled together as Zayn waits. Always _waits_. "Like this. I can't," Niall swallows, pushes a strand of hair aside and tries to look between his legs. "My leg was cramping, just," he shakes his head. And Zayn slowly brings a shaking hand over Niall's scar, runs the pad of his thumb over until it jolts under his touch.

"Got it," he nods, spreading his knees apart to keep Niall's legs over them. "Like this, got it." He appraises Niall's face, wants to get a reaction, a flash of blue but Niall only keeps his gaze down, shudders when Zayn picks up where they left off, the collision of skin becoming more sticky with each thrust.

Niall will never repeat this aloud, because only Zayn's here and he's positive Zayn already knows, but he's such a _slut_ for it. And he claws down Zayn's back and almost cries so many times it's unbearable. It's all so unbearable Zayn doesn't know how to handle it, feels like he'll never cope with the way Niall answers each of his questioning gazes with a quick nod, tears brimming blue eyes; or a desperate shake of his head, jawless and incoherently murmuring whimpers. 

Zayn fucks him steadily, has to keep a solid grip on the back of Niall's thigh so he aims precisely with every drag of his hips. And it's reflected in every flicker of Niall. Every cutoff moan or whine, every roll of cerulean eyes or unintelligble tongue. Every shaky demand and wild plea and everything. It's everything, it's everywhere, and when Niall comes again and Zayn pulls out--he won't give himself this--it's a few moments where, after Zayn has to catch his breathing again, Niall's body involuntarily shakes, as if to jumble his bearings back in place.

And it's only half that before Zayn's on his back with his eyes closed, giving himself _this_ before he leaves for a rag, makes sure there's a glass of water and Niall's vitamins on the nightstand for the morning. He's only giving himself this, so he jerks back into heightened focus when Niall crawls on top of him, complete brunette head of hair in view as Niall looks down, brings a hand around until he has Zayn in his hand, already getting into position before Zayn manages to frantically say, "Niall?"

Niall only shakes his head, keeps it short with his face still facing Zayn's abdomen. And Zayn doesn't ask anything else. If Niall wants to do this, he isn't above stopping it. But he would like to _look_ at Niall, pierce his eyes with his own hazel gaze. Instead Niall keeps his head down or thrown back when he shuffles his hips around, gasps when Zayn's dick probes where he needs it to.

Niall forgets he's pregnant, doesn't slow down and only tries to chase the next orgasm like it's in reach. He is indeed pregnant, and the ache in his lowerback began a few days ago and he's tired halfway and the creek in his hip joints ache the firmer he rides Zayn. So he slumps forward, catches himself with one hand on Zayn's chest and the other on the bed when breathing itself becomes laborious. He's still trying to fuck down, because having Zayn underneath him trying to mute his own noises in any way is better than no way. But the roll of his hips die down slowly until he drops his head next to Zayn's neck, gives a short wail when he can't fuck his prostate in this angle.

"Hey." It's Zayn's, murmuring in his ear and petting his frizzy hair down. His voice is pinched around the edges, struggling to stay calm for Niall's sake but Niall knows Zayn was close to coming minutes ago but is fighting not to. Niall doesn't need to know why, he doesn't _care_ to know why. "Hey, it's. It's fine. You're good. You're okay, don't--"

"Zayn," he whimpers, because he wants to come and he can't move. He shakes his head again, just as forcefully as earlier. And Zayn, bless him, he gets it. He understands Niall. And when he holds Niall up from below his arse and raises his own hips until he's colliding with Niall over and over again, Niall doesn't know if the wet cry he sobs is because Zayn _understands_ him or because this right here is so much better than all the sex he's had during his first pregnancy. He thinks it's because of the sex, though; only because it's so _good_. It's soul-shattering good. And after the one sob he stills and locks up, tightens his shoulders and around Zayn as he curves his back to be mindful of Jay. And then he sort of forgets about Jay when Zayn trails a hand over until he's pressing down on the rim, keeping himself inside with brutal shoves.

They do have sex again. And Niall thinks he came, or maybe his balls just exploded or something. Zayn must've came, too. Zayn's a resistant man but even he has limits. Zayn's also really special, really nice and helpful. He laid Niall on the bed. Or Niall just fell to the side afterwards, he doesn't know. All he's aware of is that he's fucked open, still feels spread apart, can still feel Zayn fucking him. He's been fucked beyond words, he can't _form_ words. He's fucked, fucked, fucked.

He's fucked in more ways than one.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did not like this chapter at all bc of the ending but my best friend (the only one who sees my work before it's updated, i love her sf much) gave me a few pointers that i believe helped. so if you like it, thank her; if you don't, blame me bc she didn't give me the okay to post this yet but it's one in the morning and i don't wanna wait till tomorrow.  
> this story is actually getting more difficult to write, and my parents have been nagging at me to get off of the laptop more than usual lately so i have to sneak in intervals at god-awful hours to write.  
> but i shall prevail!!! and i have a little-thingy fic that'll most likely be ready by xmas and i'm kinda proud of it so i hope you'll like it too :3  
> and this chapter has two flashbacks for the lovely reader who's mentioned they love them. i love you more than you love them. and i plan to live in your bathole with you in the future bc you keep me writing this. thank you x  
> as always, hope you enjoy this (better than i did) xx
> 
> ((totally unimportant, you can ignore the rest of this note))  
> but my goddaughter turned one on the 18th and i just want to express how much i love that little girl!!!! she's actually my inspiration when i write baby!avery so if you think avery's cute as a baby, imagine that tenfold bc that's my baby girl and i couldn't capture her perfection in words if i tried. today (since it's saturday) is her birthday party and i just wanted to say that idky i just really love her so much she's definitely a gift from above she's my heart. gah, i'm sorry. bye haha

_It's not. . . **that** bad. Really. Zayn's been doing this for the past four years._

_Four. Years._

_He's **also** been trying to convince himself it's not **that** bad for the past four years, all the attention; all the fucking attention he unwillingly receives every single day every single day **every single day**. _

_Every single day. He can't convince himself it's not as big as it is anymore. He's **done** convincing himself it's not a big deal._

_He can't do this anymore. He can't convince himself the financial stability is worth it when his privacy's been stripped away from him harshly, practically all at once. It wasn't a gradual process he could've gotten used to, either. It happened all at once and he doesn't remember the meeting he sat through that informed him of the anxiety he would experience._

_He can't convince himself the fans are worth it either when they're not the ones carrying out all he has to do on a daily basis. Every day. Every fucking day. They don't struggle through all the vocal coaching he's **forced** to go through; and he's always the last one left because he needs to maintain his high notes and he can't lose control and he can't do this nor that and he needs to be perfect at all times and he's not perfect._

_He's not perfect. He was never perfect and everyone expects a grand miracle where one day he'll wake up and all of this suddenly doesn't bother him._

_All of this bothers Zayn so much more than he lets on. And he fears instead of waking up to a better realization he's going to wake up with his bottle empty of pills and a fagless carton in the ripped pocket of his jacket._

_That hasn't happened yet, luckily. Only by sheer luck. By the most thin veil of luck this hasn't happened yet. He doesn't even understand how luck still favors him when he's been nothing but passive all this time._

_They're staying at an inn, this time. A small, warm inn tucked in the corner of the county and when Zayn pushes his window curtain aside all he sees is a black sky dotted with white flecks and a never ending road. There seems to be a rundown gas station just a mile up, the sign barely holding on with flickering letters. And that's it._

_It's the privacy he's craved for so, so long yet he feels lost, on a whole other world all alone. He feels like he's never going to see his mum again because they're so far away. They're all so far away and Zayn doesn't know if he yearns for privacy or company. He doesn't know what he wants and it's about the seventh time he's felt so perplexed with everything in his life._

_Which is why he can't stay there, why he won't stay there. Maybe another time he'll give himself more time to dwell on this, to think and be smart. But he's tired of overthinking, he's tired of doing what's best for everyone else instead of himself. He's just tired._

_They've sat with Graham Norton and Ian McKellen just a few days ago, that was probably the highlight of his week. No, that was definitely the highlight of his week. Maybe the whole year. It was just so easy and Zayn honestly feels like Graham was one of the few who likes them for **them** , not the extra viewers they bring him._

_But that's then and there and he's here and now and nothing's settled. Feels like someone split his brain in half and tried to mesh it back in one piece, as if the dripping grey matter wasn't unusual. God, he doesn't even know what he's saying. Nobody knows what he's saying anymore and he just, he really needs to be alone. Somewhere away and alone._

_He feels like shit, grabbing the sleeve of his coat and flicking it over his shoulder as he walks to the door. Their new manager is a wuss of a man, some rookie who lets them do whatever they want. Maybe in the beginning they'd all take advantage and go home, or to be polite just drive hours away until it's too late and they have to cancel their next show. But after four years they're watered down and pliant, easily obedient and don't cause a fuss. Well, Louis' more tamed, just a bit more._

_Zayn doesn't know if they're compliant because they've gotten older and are mature or because they're used to being disciplined. And Zayn's not a spitfire, he doesn't want to create chaos, but damn whoever thinks he walks with his tail between his legs. He's an adult, he's his own person and he knows what he wants, what he likes and hates. He knows himself._

_(He doesn't know himself.)_

_The coat is actually a jean jacket, with a fuzzy creme collar. He doesn't know if it's Louis' or Harry's but he shrugs it on, anyway. It does its purpose in keeping him warm as he shuts his inn door behind him, scurries down the hallway with his phone in his front pocket and mp3 player tucked in the pocket of his shirt. He left his iPod with Perrie, or Jawaad, he doesn't know. So he's left with this small Sony device that resembles a USB flash drive with a screen that lists the songs playing. It's not the greatest invention but it'll do. He just needs to get a pair of keys from Leo or Basil. And most likely they're taking a cigarette break and he needs one of those, too. Fucking hell, his hand can't stop--_

_"Bro, look what I found!" Niall calls, climbing up the stairs towards Zayn. He's laughing with a skip in his step when he hits the landing and why is he always laughing? "There's a store not too far and m'goin' to grab these new sausage links me mam found. Li only wants a Pepsi and Caroline. . ." he goes on, mouthing words and counting with his fingers. There's another part where he laughs, this easy noise that Zayn doesn't know if it's more effortless or flawless but suddenly he's too preoccupied to care. Zayn just really wants to leave._

_Only Niall pegs another question, the same group of words repeated for a third time. He also has a ring of car keys hanging off his index finger, thumb tucked into light jeans with a quizzical look towards Zayn._

_"Sure, let's go," Zayn shrugs, taking a minute step back before racing down the stairs. He hears Niall mutter behind him, this unplaced tilt to his voice about that wasn't what he asked Zayn but when Zayn turns to see from his periphery Niall gives his own shrug, trudges down in his loud way before he's holding the door open for Zayn._

_Only then does Zayn try to figure a way to back out of this arrangement. He. . . Niall's great and all, but he does want to be alone. Instead he should be thankful that it was Niall instead of the other three. Because with Harry he'd hover until Zayn made up a shitty lie to get him off his back and Liam will try to talk him out of being alone and Louis will talk him into doing something **more** than just being alone but Niall. Niall doesn't. Niall's neither of those. And if Zayn didn't know him so well he'd expect maybe Niall just didn't care at all. But he does. He currently does, as he shuts the door and leans closer to Zayn, tries to gauge a single emotion instead of the churning pot of overlapping turmoil going over his whole body._

_"Mate, what's up?" Niall raises an eyebrow, mindlessly twists the keys in his hand. "You look a little," he waves a loose hand over Zayn's face, drops it loudly. Everything about him is so loud. Zayn doesn't want loud. "What were you about to do?" he settles on asking, not giving a curious look. Instead he looks informed, casual. Like he isn't surprised with whatever Zayn had in mind. Zayn doesn't need to be interrogated right now. Niall's only making him feel more out of control._

_"Nothing. Was just. . ." Zayn inhales. He's suddenly unsure what he was going to do. Niall doesn't look away, only the narrow in his blue eyes soften and his pink mouth falls slowly, his folded arms falling to his sides. He's wearing a dark plaid shirt, grey tanktop under it tight over his torso and he looks effortless in a way Zayn hasn't felt in so long. Effortless or flawless? "Actually, where did you get them?" Zayn points to Niall's hand, gold keys rusting. Go hard or go home. "Kinda want to be alone for a bit, you know? Like," it's hard to form the correct words when Niall's gaze doesn't waver. "Don't see fans any time soon. Might as well. . . might as well take advantage of the opportunity, or something."_

_Niall makes a noise, too pronounced for a hum as he goes to open the door again. He holds it open and after a moment he turns to find Zayn still standing there. So he flicks his head to the side, doesn't say anything else as Zayn just. . . **stays** there._

_"Mate," Zayn chuckles, only because if he doesn't laugh he'll scream. Or cry, which is worse. "I kinda. I said I wanted to be alone, like. Just go."_

_"Yeah. And I wanted to have a drive alone, too, but. That's not gonna happen, either."_

_He doesn't hold the door open anymore, simply walks away whistling a happy tune, the warm wind making his shirt flow around him. Zayn doesn't follow. He's not going to listen to Niall. He's not going to listen to anyone, actually. So he opens the door a little and calls to Niall, "Listen, just grab me a box of fags, then. Don't want to pry in your space, man."_

_"Since when have you ever worried about space, Z? Just come on," he sighs, clicking the remote and waiting for the correct car to beep. There are only three vehicles in the vicinity, and Niall's current stupidity makes Zayn not want to go even more. But. He looks back, knows only an empty room with shitty reception is waiting for him, so. Whatever. He doesn't want to be there. He much less wants to be stubborn and stay than, well. Go._

_It's not a long drive. And Zayn finds out why because they pull into the dingy gas station. From his seat he only sees an old woman behind the register and an old man sweeping near the drinks, the aisles surprisingly fully stocked and Zayn has a moment where he panics._

_If it's well stocked, they're funded. They're funded, they have a steady flow of customers. And not today. There's no one around but Zayn cannot cannot cannot--_

_"M'gettin yer cigarettes," Niall says, leaning in from his opened car door. His head's tilted and his blonde hair's flopping forward and Zayn can already see the blood traveling to his brain from the awkward angle. "Want somethin' else?"_

_"Something salty," Zayn states, blinks to try to clear his head. "Dunno, just. Crisps or." He shrugs. He's really unsure of everything._

_"Something salty," Niall smiles, a burst of laughter making his nostrils flare. "Right. **Comin** ' right up."_

_Zayn finally gets the indirect joke when Niall's talking to the cashier, the way he leans closer when she asks something and shakes his head politely, pats his back pocket for his wallet. And only then does he laugh when Niall's getting into the car, placing the double huge bags in the backseat. Zayn laughs and Niall looks over to him surprisingly before laughing also. They're just laughing shortly for a while and the best thing about it is no one is asking **why**. There's not a reason for it and Zayn doesn't stop smiling until they drive back to the inn and suddenly he wants to ask a million things._

_"Dropping their shit off," Niall informs, as if he heard the questions stamping on Zayn's face. "Then we'll go. Don't know where but that's not what matters."_

_Bless Niall. Zayn's going to gift him a whole pub for his next birthday. Might have naked women serve him each cup. Enough pints for everyone. Zayn's going to give him the world._

_Niall comes out again, talking to someone who's inside and he's full on guffawing by the time he gets in the car, has to rest his head against the steering wheel for a second._

_"What's funny?" Zayn asks after Niall composes himself enough to start the car, a gentle giggle in his pale throat as he reverses out of the parking lot._

_"Harry told me about something from Tumblr, the fans are sick, basically."_

_"Demented, you mean."_

_"I know right?" Niall beams, giving another jovial laugh with it._

_It's silent after that. Only the rustle of Niall getting more comfortable. The car doesn't even give off a vibration through the flat gravel, nor a distant hum that Zayn can focus on. So a bit twitchy in his seat and the tapping of his foot becoming ceaseless, he asks Niall for his phone. Just wants music to blast, if that's fine._

_Niall hands it over without problem, agrees, "sure, knock yourself out," and goes back to both hands on the wheel._

_The good thing about Niall--Zayn's so in love with him--is that there's basically everything in his library. From Paramore to Taylor Swift to Panic! to Zeppelin to Lorde. Their own tracks are actually under My Top Rated and Zayn would scoff if that wasn't so Niall. Zayn skips them all and blasts Ghost Stories, keeps the album on shuffle and fortunately finds the outlet to the speakers easily._

_Zayn can only be so enamored with Niall. From his sporadic chuckles and random thoughts and easy character. But Zayn hits rock bottom when Niall messes around behind the steering wheel and the roof of the car pulls back, tucks itself away and Zayn's left with an endless view on top of him. It's all so clear despite the whirring of the drive that has the stars disappearing behind them; but then more take their place and Zayn has his eyes fixed on the brilliance above him for what seems like ever. He's stuck like this forever and every question he's yet to ask feels like they've been answered._

_"Turn this shit up!" Niall hollers, complete mirth in his words when Always In My Head starts playing. They couldn't put it any louder. They're alone except the melody is squeezing tight around them and Zayn couldn't breathe if he wanted to. He actually doesn't want to breathe. Because Niall's pressing on the petrol and they're soaring. Fuck, Zayn's not even attached to his seat anymore._

_The wind's ripping his hair, plastering it to his face. He's postive his eyelashes have been clawed off in the process but all he manages to do is sing the next verse perfectly, barely hears Niall's voice nor his own._

_They drive and Zayn hasn't an idea where they're going but this is what he needs. They can drive off a cliff and he'd only scream in release at the top of his lungs. Niall could be heading straight towards a brick wall and he'd only bare his teeth challengingly because he's never felt so alive and dying at the peak of his existence is the best way to go._

_The song ends and Midnight is next, and everything calms in a violent way that leaves Zayn breathless. He feels out of control, only wants this sensation to grow, to split him in half and spread throughout the void they're surrounded by. Only it's not void anymore, and he doesn't feel alone. He feels the way he does sometimes onstage, where he's surrounded by legions of faces he's never seen and yet it all feels so intimate in a way he wants to share with each of them. Wants them to feel the way he does._

_He wants Niall to feel the way he does. And suddenly Zayn's so bewildered with the fact just thirty minutes ago Niall was the last thing he needed and now Niall's the only thing he needs. Niall makes him feel out of control and that's what Zayn **needs** , right now. Or needed, because he feels empty in a way that he's ready for what's next, he's waiting to be filled with something else. And maybe Niall knew he needed to feel that way completely, desperately, in order for it to run its course and leave his system because now. Now he feels good. Doesn't have the solution to everything, anything, but isn't worried about it._

_He only wants Niall to feel the way he does._

_"Stop the car," he mouths, no noise filtering through. Niall feels a hand on his wrist and turns to Zayn, eyebrows raised in question. Zayn puts the music down, ignores Niall's grumble and repeats himself, more firmly than before._

_"Was just gettin' started, Z," Niall complains, slowing and parking on the side of the road. He could've stopped in the middle and it wouldn't have made a difference. "What's the deal?"_

_Zayn ignores that, can't find it in him to care that Niall's pouting. Niall's just this. . . beam of. God, Zayn will say it, he's going to say it. Niall's just **light**. He's always been this beacon and why, why does it hit Zayn now, in the middle of nowhere, past midnight. Why is he suddenly speechless because of the person sitting next to him._

_Niall's blue and pale and blonde and plaid and arms and freckles and everything Zayn wants so, so much. Zayn wants him more than anything. And Zayn feels weak in a way that's driving him crazy. Niall makes him feel crazy just seconds after Zayn found the calm he's desired. Niall's more brilliant than anything and Zayn will say this forever. This, right here, is forever and Zayn needs to make sure it feels the same for Niall._

_There's a slow movement where he puts his hand behind Niall's neck, slowly runs a thumb through the hair there before slowly pulling him towards him. It's even slower after that, and Zayn's trying to quicken it all but it's all sluggish and by the time he kisses Niall he feels he can taste the static just resting between them before their mouths touch. It tastes chaotic and warm and so good. It tastes like Niall and Zayn's always loved that taste the most._

_It's almost sad how true it is. Everything about Niall is good, simply put._

_They kiss slowly and this time Zayn purposely draws it out, hopes every drag of his lips and short bite and messy inhale means as much to Niall as him. They pull apart just enough to breathe, and Zayn dives back in because that wasn't enough. He isn't filled with anything now, he's empty and if there's anything he wants in him, well._

_He suddenly means that literally. Very, potently literally._

_Niall pulls away this time, huffs a breath to gain some semblance of cool and Zayn rushes back in before Niall can breathe. Niall can breathe him in, Niall can taste Zayn and feel how severe he makes Zayn feel. Zayn's filled with Niall and he wants Niall to be full of him._

_This is it. This is it. This is what Zayn wants forever and ever and it's so--_

_"Wait," Niall murmurs, tries to gently pry Zayn's hands from scraping across his scalp. He pulls away tenderly after that, gives a soft laugh when Zayn only follows. "Z, hold up."_

_"What's. Why are you laughing?" Zayn does back up, then. Keeps enough space between them that they can both respectfully talk but. If Zayn pokes his tongue out he can lick Niall's lip. He's about to cry, he hasn't even felt **Niall's** tongue and why is Niall stopping this????_

_"You're a bit," Niall clears his throat, keeps a kind hold on Zayn's hands by his neck. He loosens one to push a strand of Zayn's hair back, the black lock obscuring his vision. "Jesus, Zayn, you're gonna kill me."_

_"Why'd you stop, though? **I** was just getting started."_

_Niall laughs, shakes his head and tries to speak but only ends up laughing again. Zayn can still taste him on his lips and. . . Zayn still hasn't smoked. And the thing people don't get is that he's not addicted to it. He smokes because he likes to, he wants to. But if they were to take it away, he'd only grumble for a day before forgetting about it. He doesn't forget about the time he went almost a month without one and he did that to himself, for himself. He's not addicted to the nicotine nor the pills but, right now he's shaking. And he's only shaking because he really wants to taste more of Niall, in any way he'll get._

_"Okay, that's. I apologize, but. Not right now, babe. You're still a bit out of it."_

_Zayn blinks, keeps his eyes closed for longer than necessary before opening them to sit back in his seat, farther away from Niall. "I'm actually fine. M'actually better and I just really wanted to kiss you, and. Dunno, let you do whatever you want with me."_

_"Jesus fu-- Hail Mary, have mercy." Zayn only blinks again, frowns when Niall can't clear his head enough to kiss him back yet. Like, whatever. Zayn'll wait, then. "Zayn, that's very nice of you, but maybe we can go back and kip, yeah? Maybe tomorrow you can screw your head on tight enough."_

_"You don't think I actually wanna fuck you?"_

_"M'sure you do, but this isn't even our **car** ," he laughs, gesturning a hand to the windshield. "And." He swallows, taps the steering wheel lightly. "M'sure you do **now** , but. Let's not go down that road again, Z. We only ended up crashing."_

_"We won't go down that road again, babe, promise. Just." He brings a hand to frame Niall's chin--he has such a nice chin--angles his face until their lips align and right when they're about to kiss he pulls away again. "What the fuck, Ni. Come on."_

_"Don't forget about Pez, Zayn," Niall whispers, like he's trying to calm Zayn down. "Just think of her and. Don't do this to her again."_

_"That never bothered you before."_

_"Because it didn't bother **you** and. Bro, this is serious, yeah? Maybe we can," he does some fucked up gesture, palms of his hand retreating from each other, "Just a bit of space, you know? In that way, like. No kissing or. For both of our sakes. You're still my best mate and--"_

_"You don't like me anymore?" Zayn sounds like an adolescent, or a Year 5 finding out their crush is ending their two-month relationship. "Wait. I mean you. Is that--"_

_"That's not what I mean."_

_"So you just don't want to fuck me?"_

_"I'm seeing someone."_

_Whoa, okay. Zayn needs a manual on how to keep up with the likes of Niall Horan. He's going to buy the Limited Edition, too; where there's extra Google material in the back to search for his own goodness sake._

_"Whoa." And that. . . pretty much sums it up. "Um. Wow, this is awkward, uh." He and Niall never do awkward. They don't do this and Zayn suddenly feels like crying again. Crying out of anger, and he's such a pathetic piece of shit because he cries when he's angry. He cries and stutters abundantly and it's only because the anger in him is seeping through all the crevices, making him dysfunctional and he cries when he's angry and he's not going to cry. "Who's the lucky gal? Or pal?" He doesn't know which one's worst. Someone who was better than him or someone he'll never be able to compete with._

_"It's Brea, you remember her."_

_"You're together again?"_

_"Well," Niall gives a thoughtful shrug, "Not together but. We're working on it and, you see. She's okay, with me doing me because. . ." he explains. Zayn's still stuck on_ I'm seeing someone.

_Niall doesn't see people. He sleeps around and compliments every female he comes across but he doesn't see people. And he doesn't smile so fondly when speaking about them, either. But he's now trying to tame his grin, rubs the back of his neck with another declaration and blushes hot enough Zayn feels waves of it. Niall doesn't see people, and normally Zayn wouldn't feel as distressed as he does but Brea's not just a passing crush. She's a really pretty girl with brown skin and brown hair and brown eyes. She was born in Ireland but has an African-native father. She's two years younger than Niall and is a fan. She's also the girl Niall thought about while writing Change Your Ticket and Zayn wouldn't know this if Niall wasn't currently telling him this. What the fuck?_

_"Who knows, then?" Zayn interrupts. Feels like everything he's been told is a lie. This is all a lie because it shouldn't hurt as much as it does._

_"Liam. Just Liam."_

_"Not sure how Lou and Harry are gonna feel about that, mate. Not sure how I feel about that, either."_

_"It's." Niall sighs through his nose, turns to face Zayn more clearly. "Haz was gonna spill it to everyone. Can't keep a secret to save his damn life. Lou's too diabolical to tell anything, and. I wanted to talk to someone about her, mate. Z, she's great and. Liam was there. So I told him. He gets it."_

_"I'm here. I could've gotten it, too."_

_"Dammit, Zayn, don't make me regret telling you now."_

_"Why'd you wait to tell me now?"_

_"Because I know how you feel," Niall laughs incredulously, like it's absurd Zayn doesn't see how clear the answer is. "Zayn, I'm. I'm not. Christ, don't take this the wrong way, but I can see, you know? And I see the way you are with me, and. They way you **look** at me. Hey, it's fine."_

_"Just shut the fuck up. Why couldn't you go when I said I'll stay?" he spits. Zayn roughly flicks Niall's hand away when he reaches over, slumps in his seat because he's never been so mortified in himself, in his life._

_It's barely a moment after where Niall reaches with his other hand, grips the side of Zayn's jaw until he's looking at him._

_"Babe, don't do this. We're good. I'm fine and so are you, we'll. Here." He pulls away, reaches for the bag behind him and goes through it. "I bought a bunch of weird shit to snack on, when we get to whatever the hell we're going. Bought some--"_

_"She's a fan," Zayn says calmly. He actually sounds more calm than he feels but he'll take that over many things at the moment. "She's just a fan, so. Whatever, like. Be careful, or something."_

_The handles of the bag drop when Niall lets go of them, stares steadily at Zayn for a long time. "Geneva was just a fan," he seethes. Zayn can tell he's getting angry, the blush boiling in his cheeks for a whole other reason. "Becca was a fan. Dani was just a fan. Soph was just a fan. El was just a fucking fan, Zayn. Perrie is just a fan." He's on fire, long vein trailing down his forehead. "That's shit, of all the people, Zayn. That's pretty shit you'd be the one to use that label as if it makes up their entire life."_

_Zayn stays silent, more silent than the empty air they're inhabiting. He's only quiet because he fears one word, one misguided step will pummel Niall down and spiral everything out of more control._

_Zayn's back to where he's started and nothing's constant. Not even Niall._

_"Forget it," Niall mutters, turning the car back on and turning around. "We'll sleep it off. It's just late, we're both out of our heads."_

_For the first time, and it honestly, completely feels like a first, Niall gives up on Zayn._

_There isn't a tune to sing to anymore._

{~*~}

_The thing Zayn was never told was how time-consuming being a father is. Well, he's been hearing this abstractly since he was a young boy, but he was never sat down and informed of how busy it keeps you. Maybe since he left the house at an age too young for his father to bring up the talk._

_And Zayn was never told just how amazing it all is. It's amazing, actually, how much he really means that. And there was a time when he didn't want kids, nor Niall. Back when they weren't together. Zayn can't remember if they were high or drunk or sober, if it was a day they chilled out or fucked until every limb was sore, but neither wanted a child of their own and now Zayn cannot, for the life of him, imagine a day waking up without his precious Ave._

_She's eleven months, so fat for her young age with chunky legs and six teeth. She has her top four with a little gap in the middle and her bottom two are fully grown, the ones flanking them in the process. She possesses these really huge blue eyes that take up most of her eye sockets and really long eyelashes that make Zayn finally realize just how full his own are. She's stubborn and spoiled rotten and makes noises that has her lips vibrating against each other and she's so, so incredible._

_It's only Zayn and her at the house and Avery sits upright on his lap as the telly stays on in front of them. She's in the process of walking, but her tiny legs are actually too fat to support her. Niall always gives one hell of a laugh whenever she tries to keep balance; the way she holds onto something to stand up but once Zayn or Niall grab her hands to walk her around she drops on her bottom and crawls the rest of the way over, sometimes stops along the way to turn around and make sure they're following her._

_"Ave," he calls, trying to get her attention. She simply continues to stare at the screen with a slight dance she's repeating. She pats her thighs and looks around curiously, tries to climb off Zayn's lap but he only pulls her back to him. "Averyyyyy," he whines, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. The tip basically disappears into the flesh because she's so **fat**._

_She abruptly turns to him, as if surprised someone called her. He mostly calls her baby, and it's mostly while talking to Niall. 'The baby needs this' or 'The baby did this earlier' or 'Look what the baby can do.' It's Niall that calls her by her name, he's the one who mostly talks to her, but it's mostly with 'Ems this' or 'Ems that.' So she isn't so familiar with her first name. Zayn's trying to teach her that._

_"Hi, Avery," he says. She's his daughter, he can have a conversation with her. "Do you like this show?" he points to the tv. She follows his finger, turns back after a second to stare at him again. Her pout is a constant trait on her face, dark full lips in a smolder that'll last forever. "Baba doesn't like it either, it's boring."_

_She still gives a deadpan look. She smiles a lot with Niall, and Zayn isn't hurt she's already a Daddy's Girl because his daughter and he have the same favorite person and that's fine with him._

_"You okay, Avery? Do you miss Daddy?"_

_Avery turns to the side, leans her head to peek down the hall as if Niall will appear. She calls both of them Dada at the moment but she knows who's Daddy and who's Baba._

_"Yeah, I miss him, too. But he only went to get pumpkins. This is your first Halloween, aren't you excited?" he beams, picking her up from under her arms. She stands on his thighs and pays attention to his wrist, traces a chubby finger over the ink on Zayn's skin. With her head faced down her cheeks jut out, making her mouth pucker with silent words. She also says Bebe, only her bottom lip moving with it and sometimes when she's sad or moody she only repeats that word for a very long time. It's pretty annoying but above all it's funny and holy shit Zayn's holding a child that's his._

_He made Avery, totally unplanned with Niall and this time last year they were just waiting around for the big day. He won't tell Avery that no one planned her, at least not until she's older. He also hopes there isn't an interview or carpet event where he or Niall answered they didn't want children; that'll be kind of hard to explain. He also wants to make it seem like Daddy and Baba were the only ones together, that they only ever loved each other. He wants a perfect little family and he can't convince himself that's impossible._

_Avery's still quiet as she traces the tattoo, then suddenly claws at the skin with her nails as if she can rip it off and hold it. And Zayn gives a high-pitched shriek that scares them both; she's mindlessly scratched herself and others countless times with her nails that always grow despite Niall clipping them in her sleep._

_It's cute when she startles and pulls away, looks up at Zayn as if he'll fix whatever the hell just happened. She doesn't cry, but her heart beats a little faster and Zayn hugs her to his chest to calm her and because he wants to. He wants to always hold her and kiss her and make her happy and she's only smiled with him a few times but that's not enough._

_This little human, this tiny baby who Zayn hasn't even exchanged one conversation with, who he only knew for a short time and is so clueless of the world. This little girl is, without a doubt, one of Zayn's favorite people. She's such a gift. And Zayn's not overly religious, but there were nights he'd grab the small rug he kept away and faced the direction that felt right before praying. It was only a few times, because he doesn't like to pray only when everything is going great, but. He has to thank someone. He wasn't given a beautiful daughter **and** Niall randomly. He can't take advantage of that. He won't, either._

_By the time Avery's calm she's asleep and burying her face into Zayn's chest. She always needs to cover her face when she's asleep, oddly. Nights she sleeps in her crib are with a thin blanket over half her face because she literally doesn't move until the next morning. Or sometimes when she sleeps with them Zayn has her against his chest, a loose arm around her as Niall puts a pillow on her other side and pulls Zayn to him, hooks a chin over his shoulder to watch her twitch in her sleep. It's so funny, honestly._

_She stays sleeping and Zayn struggles to look for a blanket to lay her on while holding her in his other arm. He sets her on the floor, moves her until she's laying on her side but then she wakes up. And Zayn whines while she sits up next to him, looks up at him in confusion with a small hand playing with the hair by her ear._

_It's okay, though. Because she stays on the fleece or climbs onto Zayn. So Zayn stays on the floor with her and watches her. She's fascinating, is the thing. And he has spent time with babies before but he has his **own** now. And it's up to him and Niall to raise her. And he's actually responsible for a human being. Dear God._

_"Avery," he calls again, waits until she stops crawling to focus on him. "Hiiii," he smiles, because she sounds the cutest saying it. She only blinks after a while. "Byeeee," he tries. It's the tone of her voice that turns him into mesh._

_She only sits on her bottom and hits her stomach, flat palms drumming on her large belly._

_"Come on, babe," he frowns. Then she gives a little smile, crawls over to him and holds onto his shoulder to stand up. Zayn stays perfectly still to refrain messing up her balance, the way she still wobbles and hesitates each time her grip loosens._

_She stays there, makes a few noises and tears off Zayn's small hoop earring once before Trisha's skype call rings from his phone._

_"Wanna talk to Nana?" he mindlessly asks, already pressing accept and propping the phone on his raised knees. "Hi, mum, sorry I didn't call earlier."_

_"Oh, son," she sighs, grinning with a shake of her head, "I knew you were going to forget, any-- Hi, Avery!" she coos, already leaning towards the screen. "How's my baby doing?" she squeaks. Zayn mutely groans. He's his mum's baby._

_Avery peers closer, a huge smile showing her teeth as she clearly says hi. "Hah-eeee," she states with a high-pitched voice, giving a short laugh when Trisha continues to coo at her._

_Now Zayn definitely groans, sucks his teeth at both of them as they exclude him from whatever they're talking about._

_"Is Baba Zayn and Daddy Niall being good to my baby?"_

_"Bah-eee," Avery answers, waving farewell with her hand sideways. She doesn't go anywhere, though, simply slumps onto Zayn and bangs her head against his cheek to get closer to the phone._

_"M'great, mum, thanks for asking. Niall and I are splended, actually."_

_"Oh, babe, you want me to baby-talk you, too?"_

_"No." She raises an eyebrow, tilts her head to the side. "Yes."_

_Giving a soft laugh, she talks to Zayn, asks for Niall and informs him of his father's current obsession. Family Guy and Futurama. His cousin proposed to his girlfriend of three years, and Trisha knows a little secret that the girl's already pregnant. She's into herbology lately and tries to do yoga at least three times a week but mostly spends time on the sofa with Yasir. She's been cooking with more vegetables, also, causing everyone else in the house to complain most of the time and Zayn chuckles at that, can clearly picture Waliyha and Safaa being stubborn. Doniya and her husband are taking a trip to Hawaii for the holidays and Safaa is actually starting to date; and Zayn is so traumatized at the moment, he forgets his daughter is with him until she grabs the phone away, tries to stabilize it and repeatedly says Byeee, Byeee, Byeee. She's such an attention-seeking. . . beautiful girl._

_"Well, someone's telling me to leave," Trisha laughs, blowing a kiss Avery's way. Zayn's daughter is actually trying to learn how to kiss, too. She puckers her mouth with chubby cheeks turning her eyes to slits then opens her mouth, gives a small audible 'muh' with it._

_Zayn's back to being ignored, but this time he doesn't mind it. He holds the phone away with one hand and settles Avery on his lap with the other, can't help but laugh when she tries to give another kiss that only ends up with her face smacking the screen. But before she can give a fake-cry or rub her nose, the front door's being banged open and Zayn can pinpoint the voice singing 'I love you like XO' anywhere._

_"Mkay, now I gotta go, mum, Niall's here."_

_"Love you, son. Bye, Avery!"_

_"Bah-eee!"_

_The call ends and Zayn puts his head on the back of the sofa and stares at where Niall's coming. He's holding a big bag, the top obscuring half his face. It's only when he drops the heavy load and lets the contents spill out does Zayn's mouth drop._

_"What the. Babe, you said you were only getting one. The hell is all that?"_

_Niall swoops in, and Zayn puckers his lips for a kiss but instead Niall grabs Avery and throws her in the air, a shaking laugh bellowing from her tummy and her black hair flopping around. Zayn stays there gobsmacked until Niall's done kissing her and is holding her up with a hand spread across her stomach, lifting her up and down as if he was lifting weights instead of a living thing._

_"What?" he asks, mouth open when he picks up on Zayn's glare._

_"Nothing, I just. Whatever, c'mere." Niall situates himself next to him, gives Zayn a rough, forceful kiss before putting Avery on his shoulder. "That's what I was asking for, a kiss, you twat."_

_"Not in front of a lady, Zaynie. And aw, babes, I didn't see that. But I saved the best for last, yeah?" he wiggles his eyebrows. Zayn only raises his. "Wait, why're ya on the floor?"_

_"Dunno, just got comfortable. Why did you buy a ton of pumpkins when you were only buying Ave one?"_

_"We all have one now. Don't tell us no," Niall frowns, putting Avery's face next to his so Zayn sees both of their pouts. Zayn only sees two Nialls staring back at him, two pairs of blue eyes and symmetrical dented chins and noses. She also has a few sparse freckles on her neck that travel down her back. Only her lips are more fuller and she has a darker complexion and black hair._

_"Okay, then that's three," Zayn informs, holding up three fingers so Niall receives a visual with his explanation. "There are at least five hanging out the bag, and there looks to be more."_

_"Yeah, 'cause we're all going to carve one. Or paint, because you're good at that. Then I bought one for Theo, and Theo and Ems. And don't know if Scar has any but I also got her one. And another for Ems and her to decorate. And then a few others just in case, you never know."_

_"Li needs to have a kid already."_

_"Well," Niall squeezes Avery's face lightly, leans in to kiss her puckered mouth before lolling her head side to side. She only yelps excitedly. "Candice's only been in the picture for a few months. Don't think Li'll have a kid that soon."_

_Zayn hums, somewhat shrugs. "M'not helping you move them," he smirks, pointing towards the pumpkin mess. He will, and he's going to, anyway. Niall's going to forget it's there in twenty minutes so of course he's going to move it._

_"'Course you're not, Z, you're softboned."_

_"That's. . . That's not true. That's not even a word."_

_Niall smiles in reply, plays with Avery for a little who sits obedient on his lap, waiting for his attention. "Was Baba good today? Was he a naughty boy?" She only sends this cheesy, evil smile type-of-thing that Zayn couldn't name if he wanted. He actually doesn't want to. It's scary. "So," Niall says, hands around Avery's small ribcage. "I was thinkin', you know? I do that, and. There's this authentic sushi place down Li's way. And it looks pretty sick so-- You still like sushi, right?" he turns to Zayn. Is he being serious._

_"I love sushi, but you don't."_

_"Don't like the raw fish, but they have other shit. Was wonderin' if ya wanna go now?"_

_"Now?"_

_"Yeah," Niall chuckles shortly, the sides of his neck slowly growing red._

_"Hm. Yeah, cool. I'll feed Ave before we go, she might not like it."_

_"No, like." Niall licks his lips, faces forward as the muscle in his jaw jumps. "It'll just be me and you, if that's fine. A proper," he pauses, swaying his head side to side to find the word._

_"A proper date?" Zayn smiles. A proper, proper date. Because they've always brought Avery with them--a unanimous decision--and this will be the first time, literally the first time, they'll go somewhere without their daughter since she was born. "Sweet, babe. I'm all for it."_

_Niall sighs, and Zayn first dubs it as a yawn, but when he finds more of the red wrapped around Niall's face and choking his ears, the sigh becomes relief. "Ni, what's up?"_

_"Nada," he shrugs. Though Zayn sees the rapid blink. He doesn't ask again; he doesn't need to. He raises an eyebrow until Niall can't take the silence anymore. "Just." He makes a warbled noise, and Zayn knows he's trying to clear his head to speak correctly. "I didn't know how to ask. And I wanted to, for a little bit. So."_

_"You thought I'd say no?" Zayn almost laughs. Almost. He stops it right before because he won't make Niall more uncomfortable. But they're married. And yeah, there's a ring on Zayn's finger. And yup, there's a matching one on Niall's when Zayn goes to look at it. It's weird, kind of. It's just a metal band, really. And it's only been six months, which is nothing when it comes to marriage--the real kind, the kind Niall and Zayn have in mind--but Zayn still feels giddy inside whenever he finds the ring resting there._

_"Mm, no. No, I didn't think you will," **Think? What the fuck?** Zayn's saying in his head, "but. Still. Wanted to properly ask you on a proper date like a proper husband and..." Zayn's so in love. And he goes to tell Niall this when the blond shakes his head roughly and looks at Zayn with a grin. "Whatever! Forget that. We're still going, yeah?"_

_"Yeah, we're going," Zayn rolls his eyes, but his mouth stretches into its own smile and he lightly pats Niall's cheek. "Love you. Gonna go shower, look handsome for my proper husband," he teases. He can't help it._

_"You're always handsome," Niall mutters earnestly. He's sending a small half-smile, an arm resting against the seat of the sofa. Zayn only stares at him, and Niall gives a what-can-you-do shrug. "The prettiest thing I've ever seen, to be honest."_

_"Now you're talking shit. Avery's not gonna like that when. . . Wait, where's Ave?"_

_There's a moment where they freeze, and everything begins to spiral into chaos when she's not on Niall's lap. Zayn's the first to get up, quickly scans the floor until he finds her. And he really puts a hand over his heart because he really was about to lose it. But the way he finds Avery makes up for the minute stress._

_She's by the pumpkins, leaning against them with the smallest of the bunch between her legs. It's still heavy, and she strains and whines trying to pick it up before she gives up and violently drops her hands down. She settles for hugging it, tries to sink her teeth into the thick skin and only ends up with a grimace from the taste._

_God, she's a handful._

 

_They drop her off at Liam's, since it's closeby. And after Liam opens the door and invites them in, then looks surprised as Zayn gives her over to him with a 'thanks for this, bro, we owe you one' does Zayn realize Liam actually does not know he's babysitting her; and that Niall lied to him._

_"Seriously?" he deadpans. "Seriously, Ni? He didn't even know?"_

_"Hey, I said he was free. That's what I said."_

_Then it's a little problem after as the date temporarily becomes a three-man party before Liam gives up and offers to watch her. "I just don't know anything about babies, feel like one of us will be dead by the time you get back."_

_"You'll be fine," Niall happily assures, handing her over to Liam's outstretched arms. They only stare at each other for a few seconds, until Avery yawns and rubs her face. "See, Li? She's actually tired. When she falls asleep, just put her on a duvet on the floor. If she wakes up and she's hungry, feed her what you're eating, she eats everything."_

_"She's not even one."_

_"Oh, we know," Zayn interrupts, "But this guy over here thought it'd be cool to feed her pancakes for breakfast when she was only five months, so now the baby formula doesn't fill her up and she literally eats anything. But don't give her soda. Or alcohol."_

_"Jesus, Zayn."_

_"She watches Metalocalypse. So if she acts up just put that on and sit her on your lap. She'll be fine." Niall pats his back, grabs Avery one last time to kiss her and tell her Daddy and Baba will be back soon. "Take care of Liam for us, Ems!"_

_"You got this," Zayn gives him a thumbs-up, lets Niall pull him out the house before Avery starts crying or Liam changes his mind._

_When they leave Liam's still stuck in one spot, big hands grabbing a fleshy thing he hasn't an idea what to do with._

 

_The sushi bar is actually cozy, and only one car's been following them and it's the same pap who faithfully parks outside their residence. It's not that big of a deal, because he doesn't only follow them and they're also not the only celebrities to live in the estate._

_It's actually a buffet, and Niall feels gutted he couldn't pull Zayn's chair out since they're sat in a booth. Their food is served to them, the waitress doesn't **seem** to recognize them but she's friendly and actually gives a few samples. Zayn doesn't know if he loves her or Niall more when she even lets him take an extra one off the plate._

_They have a good time, which shouldn't sound surprising because they have always had a good time together. Simply, always. But this is nice. It's intimate and quiet in a way Niall's not._

_There's a point where Zayn's scarfing through his food and is filling his mouth with beloved salmon and tuna, and he goes to gesture if Niall's enjoying his plate of rice and boiled shrimp when he finds the blond already staring at him._

_Niall has this intent gaze, a slight narrow in his eyes and a settled mouth. He doesn't even have a utensil in his grip, pale hands simply bracketing his plate. "God, you're amazing."_

_Zayn's mouth is full, in case you didn't know. And if he wasn't so tuned to his body he might've choke with how deep Niall's voice is in the still air. But he gives himself a moment to let the words sink in before smirking fully, baring his teeth in the process._

_"Wow, okay," Niall laughs, shaking his head as he goes back to his meal, pushing the white grain around. "Definitely a man after my heart."_

_"Will you still love me when I've got nothing but fish breath."_

_"'Course," Niall nods deeply, stabbing the crustacean. "Just don't, like. Talk to me. Or kiss me."_

_"But I wanna kiss you."_

_"That's cute."_

_"Babe," Zayn purposely whines, leaning over the table towards Niall. "C'mon, just one kiss."_

_Niall stuffs his mouth till his cheeks jut out a little, as if that'll stop Zayn. Yeah, as if._

_There's rough pokes into stomachs and delayed hands smacking against mouths that don't catch all of the spitting food on time and Zayn honest to God fears he might choke because he can't stop laughing to swallow his food thoroughly. Niall looks a bit bothered and enamored at the same time and Zayn gives loud coughs when he does manage to swallow, almost down the wrong tube._

_A lady's slowly walking up to them, and Zayn's ready to apologize for their--his, really--rude behavior when instead she stays a few inches away and stutters over words. It's only then does he realize she's a fan. And she's the one apologizing for ruining their date with coming over but she didn't want to let this moment go to waste and all she really wants is a picture because she loves them so much and--_

_Zayn's so embarrassed he was probably caught making an arse of himself. He knows they still have fans, a lot of new ones too because the numbers keep growing. But the ones who basically grew up with them during their career have other responsibilities, have families to attend to. So they don't bother sticking to online shopping anymore and the last time they were mobbed was the last time they performed as a group for an American show, years ago. So he's not at all bothered she's there; it' his unusual PDA that was witnessed that keeps him stuck._

_So Niall takes over, stands up and hugs her in greeting because he practically hugs everyone he meets. She's stuttering and looks close to freaking out but Niall pats her shoulder, laughs out a few words and of course he agrees to a photo. Of course he grabs her phone when she takes it out to set the camera ready, flicks his head towards Zayn so he can get up, too. And of course he takes a good photo with the girl--her name is Francheska--in between them. Of course he's so happy and nice and honest that he makes up for Zayn's silence and small gestures._

_He's all of those and Francheska leaves with a an extra photo of just Zayn and Niall, and Zayn feels. . . good. He feels really good. And he turns to find Niall blushing towards his food, embarrassed for a whole different reason than Zayn. He'll never admit it, but Niall loves the attention. Loves it even more now since they're not as common. He blinks to clear his head and looks up to Zayn and._

_Honestly, Niall's the amazing one._

  
_They pick up Avery less than an hour after that. And if Liam was watching any other child instead of theirs, the situation they find him in would be hilarious._

_The television's blaring a scene of Nathan Explosion and William Murderface, no viewers sat on the sofa. The bag Zayn packed for Avery is empty with the contents strewn near the staircase, unused nappies stretched out and ripped wipes spilling out its container. There's a colony of crumbs everywhere, some in more defined trails than others and a few limited edition Marvel action figures bent in unrecoverable positions. They find Liam with throw up on his shirt and a very-fussy Avery in his arms, sticky cheeks and dirty hands._

_She immediately moves around when she spots them, scratches the skin of Liam's arms and flails a hand in their direction. Niall grabs her from him, hands over the spare key Liam gave them and thanks him pleasantly with a hug before sauntering towards her bag._

_Zayn stays behind, waits for the stuttering trauma in Liam's eye to stop._

_"You did good for a newbie," Zayn nervously chuckles, picks a piece of lettuce tucked in the collar of Liam's shirt. "You--"_

_"I didn't know what I was doing. I think it was my fault, I tried to make everything perfect and." He rubs his eyes. "God, I made her a salad and she threw it up. Are you not feeding her greens? She can't even keep it in her stomach."_

_"Well, we don't eat--"_

_"I had to piss for **hours** , Z. But there was nowhere to sit her down and she didn't go to sleep after you left. She stayed awake and by the time I found her pacifier she was--"_

_"Hey, you did good," Zayn cuts him off, grabs Liam's shoulders to shake him. "M'proud of you, mate. You're both in one piece. That's all we asked."_

_They leave after the mess is cleaned, make sure Liam's responsive enough to laugh before getting in the car with a promise of buying Liam a vintage Mjolnir for Christmas._

_Avery ends up falling asleep on the car ride over, her pacifier moving with each suction and Zayn puts her to bed while Niall empties her bag and puts the leftovers away. He puts her in her crib, makes sure she's on her back, though by the time he changes and washes his teeth and face, she's on her side, binky by her open mouth._

_"Liam's gonna be an awesome, dad," Niall laughs, too loudly with a sleeping baby in the room, actually. "Can already see his grey hairs growing in."_

_"I think he's going to be great," Zayn honestly says. Niall's untying his sneakers on the edge of the bed, leaning down with another chuckle, quieter this time. Zayn tries to tell_ _him to keep his shoes by the door, but Niall likes to keep his prized collection together._

_Niall unties the second shoe, sits up straight to Zayn in front of him, already kneeling over him with a tan hand against his neck. "He tries, you know?" Zayn says, pulling the strands until Niall's head falls back to kiss him slowly once. "I think that's the best thing you can do as a parent."_

_"Who are we talking about again?" Niall rests a hand on Zayn's hip with another short kiss, runs fingers over the skin of his waist before gripping the area tightly. He's trying to be cool but Zayn's definitely taking over tonight. "You had fun today?"_

_"I had a really great time, thank you. I wanna go there again soon, too."_

_"With Ave, yeah?"_

_"With Ave," he nods, smiling when Niall looks content with that answer. Like either will have it any other way. "Might only feed her the seaweed rolls, though. Think Liam's judging us as parents."_

_"I'll have you know, Ems is going to be the sickest girl when she's older. She's going to be unstoppable and Liam will beg us to teach him our ways as badass fathers."_

_Zayn's. . . going to die with the abundance of emotion he has inside for Niall. Or maybe he's about to bust a nut, same thing. There are condoms beneath the bed, or in the nightstand; they're somewhere near. Zayn tucks the special buzzing lube Niall adores in a space the headboard inhabits. And tonight's a really special tonight._

_Everyday can be today and he'll still be excited each morning. He loves this. He loves his house and the clothes he buys. He loves the people he keeps in touch with and his neighbors. He loves himself and his daughter and Niall more than anything._

_He loves Niall more than anything._

_"I love you," he murmurs, kissing Niall more arousing than before, making sure Niall feels every part and drag of his lips. Niall's hold on him tightens, falls loosely when Zayn runs a thumb over Niall's bottom lip. His blue eyes are unfocused and Zayn loves the hard dick pressing up against him and he's going to show he does. "Really, really love you. Gonna show you how much, too."_

_"Mmm," Niall hums, the smirk on his face wobbily. "Say no more."_

_That's actually the only demand Zayn allows him to give all night._

{~*~}

Zayn wakes up to rain hitting the window, drowsily tries to look over to make sure nails aren't in fact being thrown against the surface when a weight stops him. And it's Niall.

Niall's sleeping on his chest, arm thrown over him with a pale hand holding Zayn's shoulder. He's snoring and unconscious and on Zayn. He's on _Zayn_. And Zayn would jump up and think what the fuck happened if Niall wasn't sleeping, _on_ him. On _him_.

He's so fucking tired, though he knows instantly that he's more rested this morning than he's been for the past few months. He isn't restless for once; for the first time in a long time he's tired in a way that lets him know he did indeed have a good night's rest, that he didn't stay awake all night and managed a few ten-minute slumbers every hour.

Zayn could slide off the bed without a trace and Niall would still be sleeping. But Zayn stays there, looks out the window and forces himself to not recoil from last night's memory.

It was amazing, it was so momentous. Despite his fatigue he knows it wasn't their best, not in any way, really. But he doesn't feel cooped up with the amount of stress he was used to, the turmoil of it all that made a home in his mind, his body and every part of his soul. Instead he feels extended, stretched from the tip of his toes to the loose strands ready to fall from his head. He feels good, though he knows he shouldn't. But he still does. Fuck, last night was amazing and he was starting to believe that was never going to happen again and it did. It might _not_ after this, he's not stupid. 

Something happened in Niall's head. Whether he decided to take advantage of the situation or simply wanted to have nice lovemaking or didn't even think about it at all. Zayn knows him, knows Niall wouldn't engage for the hell of it, because he didn't care. Not in this case. Not with where they're at maritally. 

Whatever. Zayn will just--

 _Not_ Whatever. He can't act like last night was nothing. It was something, it was a lot. It was honestly something he did not find the night going. It was something he did not find himself to soon be in a position--literally--where he was receiving, too.

Just. Jesus, he's going to lose his mind. If Niall doesn't kill him, he'll die with the constant overlapping war going on in his brain. 

He can't go back to sleep now. And if he wanted to, he wouldn't stay there. He won't let Niall wake up with Zayn enjoying himself on their bed when he shouldn't. He shouldn't. Not after. . . 

What the hell was Zayn thinking sleeping with her? That ruined _everything_. _He_ ruined everything. He doesn't even--

 _Whatever_. Not right now. Not this morning, when he can maybe steal another quiet moment with Niall in his arms, dead to the world but still so alive to Zayn. His pale lashes are fluttering faintly, left set tickling Zayn's chest. He gasps one time, clutches Zayn's shoulder before whatever he dreamt seems to calm down and he sighs, rests again and grows pliant. He also occasionally hums, sometimes moans because he can't even stay quiet in his sleep.

Finally Zayn decides to get up, slowly pulls himself away, has to hold Niall's wrist lightly to pry his hand off him, too. By the time he's standing and registering Niall drank the glass of water sometime in the middle of the night, Niall pulls Zayn's pillow to his chest, hooks his head over the top of of it and in seconds he's dreaming, humming once.

Zayn showers, runs the hot tab until it's ice cold. He doesn't feel his skin freezing up but by the time he leaves the bathroom with a towel around his waist, his hair's sticking to his neck and sending arctic droplets down his back.

He cleans the room's floor after he's dressed in black flannel pants and a brown sweater zipped up, doesn't want to leave his clothes on the floor for Niall to clean up. He folds what's still cleaned and puts the dirty garments in the hamper. He does the same with Avery's pajamas that she must've taken off in the middle of the night. She's only wearing her purple panties and Zayn puts the pair of socks back on her feet because she's shivering, tucks the blanket under her neck. He does attempt pulling her hair into an unconstrained ponytail, but halfway into gathering the strands she mindlessly pushes him away, groans and turns until she's completely under the dark blue fleece.

After leaving and tiptoeing down the steps, he realizes he has at least four hours to himself. And he gets bored after two. It's still dark outside, he's skimmed through a few novels he's yet to read, and he doesn't want to make breakfast for it to get cold by the time Ave or Niall come down.

Zayn doesn't even want to imagine how that's going to be.

At least Bosco's keeping him some sort of company, licking his fingers where they hang off the edge of the sofa and jumping onto the cushion next to him to demand Zayn's full attention. He's almost a year old, so he's almost fully grown. So he's not as small as he was before when he plops onto Zayn's lap, stays happily oblivious when Zayn groans when a heavy paw meets his dignity.

But by the time it's itching noon, he goes upstairs. One of them should've woken up by now. And Avery's not in her room, her blanket isn't on the bed, either. So Zayn breathes, and he wills himself to casually close the door and check on Niall because he is not going to lose his mind. His daughter is okay, his daughter is probably brushing her teeth. His daughter--

Is currently sitting upright next to Niall's sleeping form, teal footie on, chin on her palm, elbow against her knee where her legs are crossed. If Niall doesn't kill him, and he doesn't wind up killing himself, Avery will definitely make sure of that.

"Babe, what are you doing?" he sighs, making sure to keep quiet because Niall is still asleep. 

"Shhh," she harshly shushes him, as if _he's_ intruding. "Daddy's sleeping. And someone needs to watch my baby brother while Daddy sleeps." Because God forbid Jay needs assistance in Niall's stomach.

"Well, your baby brother's sleeping, too, Ave. He's going to be okay as long as Daddy's okay."

"Oh." She turns to Niall, pets his belly lightly while whispering a few words before kissing the area. When Zayn shuts the door behind them both, she sighs. "Finally! I was starving, can I have sausages, please?" she asks looking up at Zayn, using her blue eyes against him. She knows it. And Zayn also knows they have beef sausages instead of pork, this time.

"Sure, with what?" He stands a few steps down, leans over a little because she always hops on his back to be escorted to the kitchen. And if Zayn doesn't do it she'll demand they go back upstairs and recount their steps, with Avery on his back.

She has a little attitude, and they're in the process of disciplining her; but it's kind of late for that and she always listens the first time when they chastise her.

"Mmmm," she thinks, hands around his neck a bit too tightly. "Fried eggs! And fried tomatoes." Zayn nods, sits her on the counter. "Oh, and fried bread! Beans, too! The--"

"Alright, Avery, I don't think I'm going to cook you a plate of obesity so early in the day, okay? Want toast instead? With orange juice? I bought the kind with pulp just for you."

"Yes, thank you, Baba. Can I have butter on my toast, please?"

"You got it."

Zayn cooks half the carton of sausages for the both of them, serves orange juice for her and brews himself a tall mug of coffee, black with two cubes of sugar. They sit at the table, and Avery has two small scoops of ketchup and syrup for dipping and alternates between them as she eats. She's so disgusting.

They sit there for more than an hour, because Avery tells him all about seeing Anthony for the third time--she repeated all of this during the car ride home, then while they cooked dinner--and Zayn listens like it's the first time. She also tells him she's been trying to draw a house, and even though she can't draw for shit and Zayn can already tell her talent isn't going to get any better, he still encourages her, grabs a few napkins and stray pens lying around and goes over a short, easy tutorial with her. The result is actually better than he thought, and she beams a malicious smile like she found a way to finally rid the world of humanity.

Zayn laughs, because he can't help but smile when she's creeping him the fuck out. She has a mind of her own that Zayn can honestly say he'll never keep up with and he never understood females in the first place. He can barely understand his own gender, still experiences moments where Niall has him perplexed to the point of a headache.

He experiences another moment of confusion, then. When he feels warm lips press into his cheek and Niall's standing next to him, rubbing his shoulder before talking with Avery.

He freezes. He freezes all over again while Avery sits Niall down and offers a cold link of sausage to him. He takes it, looks like he's mulling over dipping it in both condiments simultaneously as Avery presents them but declines. Niall talks with her, chews on the cold food and sips some of her juice while she dotes over his belly as if she's a first-time grandmother.

Zayn unfreezes after a few minutes, moves his jaw around because if he can't be dramatic and place a hand over his cheek he'll at least try to feel the skin tingle with the movement. It was just on the cheek, not on the mouth. (He honestly didn't expect a snog, anyway.) So he knows not everything's clear. Not everything's okay, but. Okay. He can do this. He doesn't know what _this_ is, but he'll take it. It's so much better than the months before, so much less of stress in a way he thought will never happen again.

Niall's pregnant, yes. And that still drives him crazy. That still clogs his senses and makes him tear up with so many ugly possibilities. But he's happy, or it seems that way. Niall wouldn't plaster this much faux happiness for anything; Zayn knows he wouldn't muster the strength to do that. So he knows Niall's at least more happy than before. And that they're. . . somewhere; somewhere better than before, maybe. But he can't convince himself that's true if it's all actually the total opposite.

And it _can_ be the total opposite. The calm before the storm, and all Zayn pictures is Niall holding up a pretty facade while their daughter's with them, only for him to spit at Zayn the moment she leaves, to be kicked out for last night because it was a mistake and it's Zayn's fault it's all his fault it's _all Zayn's fault._ And Zayn wouldn't be able to find a way out of that when it probably all was.

"Where are you going?" Niall asks when Zayn stands up, amusement in his tone. He doesn't sound bad-natured, though. He just looks interested, has a tiny smile that Zayn doesn't return.

"Um. Your food, like. Breakfast. Was going to make you a full English, if you want."

"No, thank you," he shakes his head, grin never faltering. "Was going to make tea, probably eat a cheese sandwich."

"But the baby has to eat, too."

"Baba, don't be silly. You can't feed a baby big-people food, I thought you knew that."

"Avery," Zayn points a finger at her, "Remember what Baba said about butting in grown ups' conversations?" She apologizes, looks literally disappointed in herself for a second. "But no, Ave, since the baby's inside Daddy, he eats what Daddy eats."

"But how?"

Then it's a little difficult trying to explain the uses of the umbilical cord and how the fetus consumes food and breathes through there. Then it gets really laborious when she wants to know everything about her baby brother. Is he happy? ("Well, I'm happy so I hope Jay's happy, too.") Does he have a favorite food so Daddy can eat that? ("I think he likes peppers because I wanna eat anything and everything with that.") Why can't I hear him? ("He's in a bubble of water so even if he talks we may not hear him. He's too young to make noises.") What does he look like? ("We only have black and white pictures, at the moment, so--" "Lemme see!")

Zayn sneaks away after Niall tries to pull the photos of the baby's willy away and appease Avery with the remaining pile, but it only ends with Avery wanting them the most and asking what is it showing.

He's alone, surprisingly not shaking. He's. . . okay. Fine. Happy, sort of. Well, he's _always_ happy since coming back to the house. He's under the same roof as his family, and that alone is a lot to be happy for. So he won't overthink it. Niall seems okay with whatever this is. So Zayn will be okay, too. 

He's alone, rummaging through the top cabinet for the canola oil when Niall speaks behind him.

"Hey." Niall's smiling, Zayn sees when he looks over, closes the cabinet doors and mistakenly rubs a hand down his pants. It only ends with the grease on his hand sticking to the cloth. "What are you doing?"

"Uh." Zayn was never cool. Who ever thought that in the first place? "Was gonna whip up something, you sure you don't want the full meal?"

"Actually. . ." And this is where Niall sighs quietly, tries to fold the cardigan over his stomach. The ends fall by his sides after he crosses his arms over his chest.

They're suddenly not talking about food anymore.

This is where Zayn's throat dries up, where his tongue falls completely dead. This is _it_. And Zayn can't convince himself he's overreacting when Niall goes on to say, "I was thinking maybe--"

"This is about last night," Zayn interrupts. He isn't aware of his solid grip on the counter next to him. He just has to do this. "I don't know what you're going to say about it, or if you even remember it, but I do."

Niall purses his lips, mulls over a thought and he usually doesn't think with his mind, he thinks with his mouth and he isn't _saying_ anything.

"Don't say it was a mistake," Zayn concludes. He won't say ' _I'm sorry that happened_ ', because he's not. ' _It was my fault_ ', doesn't seem right, either. Because Zayn's going to at least give himself this; he didn't initiate it. If anything he stopped it.

Or tried to. He didn't last that long.

Niall's still quiet, tilts his head to the side and looks to the floor with a growing smirk. "It wasn't a mistake, I remember it, too. And I wasn't drunk or, anything. Had meself a clear head, so don't worry about that."

Zayn stays quiet, because if it wasn't about that, it's about something else. And he's completely clueless for the first time in so long.

"M'taking Ems out," Niall points a thumb behind him, towards the dining room. "Gonna grab a bite somewhere out there. That's what I was going to say."

Zayn steers himself with relief. "Oh. Okay, cool. That's. . . fine."

Niall nods, doesn't smile and turns around. Zayn can hear him talking to Avery, her little cheer before she's running up the stairs and Zayn assumes to go get ready.

By the time Zayn walks back to the table, Niall's upstairs and the dishes are stacked neatly in the middle, no stray crumb on the surface.

 

Zayn's alone, and it's a little weird.

He's not lonely. And he's trying to refrain from seeming like a dick but last night has him feeling the total opposite of loneliness.

But, he is alone, right now. Also, he oddly doesn't want to do anything.

He doesn't want to watch a film; and he can't tell if it's because Niall's not there to comment all through it or because they're all Niall's so he feels uncomfortable touching them. He doesn't want to draw, either, and he hasn't drawn for himself since moving back in. He frequently paints with Ave, but that's to benefit her. Not him.

His vision jumps when he tries to read again, and honestly, he's read all the good books he owns. The house doesn't need cleaning and most likely than not Niall's going to buy dinner from out there and. 

Zayn really needs more hobbies.

Sandy texts him two hours into trying to nap on the sofa, a message recommending a new breakout artist he's met at the studio. He inserted a YouTube link with it. Zayn checks it out and it's pretty good, nothing major.

_Sick tunes ! Needed something refreshing, thanks mate_

He receives a thumbs-up emoji in reply. 

He does call his father after a bit. Because despite how wrong it might be, his father was one of the only few who supported him throughout this whole time. Not even Trisha could've helped him and Zayn can still hear her voice, her disappointed _this is not my son. I didn't raise you like this, Zayn._

They talk, and Yasir's normally gruff voice fills Zayn with so much normalcy it makes him a little drowsy, just enough to force him to keep aware of the conversation even more. His father answers all his questions or gives an ambiguous answer that has Zayn figuring out the rest. He's sarcastic and mutters jokes about Trisha in a whisper, and Zayn cackles when he hears his mother swatting Yasir with a rag, a scowl in her voice as she walks away.

They hang up when she finishes cooking dinner and Zayn talks to her for a little as well and then he's alone again. Zayn is starting not to enjoy being alone.

 _Bro_ , he texts Louis, because Liam's still angry and Harry will loyally reply even though he isn't happy, either. 

Neither is Louis, but Zayn knows he won't ignore him and they're starting to gradually speak again.  
 _Yo_

_What u doin? Sandy showed me this song_

_Tryin to take a shit. Its impossible with kids in the house. Fucking impossible_

Zayn laughs, types _haha sorry bro, sounds pretty shitty :DDDD_

 _No, you dont get to laugh at my misfortune. This is upsetting._  
 _I swear, kids will find you._

By the time they're done texting Zayn feels better. Not the best, but better. Louis always makes him feel better. He's going to buy him a Valentine's gift just because.

Shit, he also needs to start looking for Harry's birthday gift. Funny, 'cause just this time last year, he and Niall were scrolling through their iPad, looking for the expensive guitar piece Niall promised to buy Harry years back.

"Bosco," he calls, used to the heavy thumps his paws leave on the floor as he runs over to him. Zayn props his camera until Bosco's face is in view, tongue hanging out with an evident smile. He's so cute. "You're the cutest, aren't you, boy?" he says, is met with another jump onto his lap. This time he's injury-free and Bosco moves so he can arrange himself with a head on Zayn's lap to rest.

The last picture Zayn updated on Instagram was the day of Avery's birthday, after they sang happy birthday and she tried to lap at the whipped cream on her cheek with her tongue. Her face is whitewashed from all the flashing of others' phones trying to snap the moment into memory, but you can still see her blue eyes squinting and the indent of her dimple.

So Zayn uploads Bosco's, leaves it filterless and doesn't write a caption. The immediate number of likes is still surprising.

It's back to being quiet, and Zayn slumps his head on the back of the sofa with nothing else to do. He doesn't want it to bother him, but it's a little unsettling how dull his life is without Niall or Avery. He realizes that they're his priority, they're his hobby and his getaway all at once.

And that's fine, that'll be perfect, even. If they weren't in this time in their lives.

 

A hand hits Zayn's stomach repeatedly, and Avery's lucky he instead grabs her wrist to stop her than instinctly pushing her away, or twisting her forearm back.

"What, Ave?" he sighs, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his palm as she grabs a thin box from behind her.

"Look what Daddy let me buy," she beams, holding up a red gourmet pizza box. "I'm going to help cook it, too!"

First, she didn't buy it. Second, you don't cook it, you bake it. "That's cool, princess, but um. You sure you like all these?" he carefully asks. There seems to be peppers and anchovies and three different kinds of meats on top of the four-flavored cheeses.

"Yes! And Daddy also bought chips from McDonald's, and that box of the brownies-powder thingy so we can make it here. And he's going to let me lick the bowl while it's in the oven."

Okay. So Zayn's daughter is going to eat high blood pressure for dinner, and diabetes for dessert. That's. . . Okay, Zayn can deal with this. No biggie. It's the weekend, anyway. 

She runs away before Zayn can respond, and why the fuck are kids always running?

Niall's already in the kitchen, putting away canned goods and separating the soda from the juice; they try not to indulge Avery in a lot of caffeine and wow, they are doing a fantastic job with her diet, seriously.

They're shit parents but they're _parents_. And Avery loves them both so that's all that matters.

"You bought food?" Zayn asks. Long gone are the days where he'd greet Niall with a kiss on the cheek, something they never paid mind to but never took for granted, either. Hell, before Zayn would be the one picking the pizza, brushing off Niall's choice of fastfood with a bored look.

"Hm? Oh, yeah," Niall says, waving a jar of mayonnaise with a scrunched up nose. "Ems wouldn't leave unless we bought this. Sick little girl."

 _That's from you_ , Zayn wants to say, because he might eat a lot too but his cravings don't pass frog legs. _She's all you_ , he thinks. So even if Zayn ever wants to get away from him, Avery won't let that happen. And Zayn doesn't want to go anywhere, doesn't ever want to leave again. But it's nice to have a choice, and he never had a choice when it came to Niall.

God, he's so in love.

"How was, um. That? And the baby? How's the baby?"

Zayn's trying, and Niall might not see it and Zayn doesn't see it all himself, but he's trying to keep it all together when he can't get one thing to work properly.

Niall shrugs, grabs a piece of beef jerky from a bag and pats his stomach. You can see it, there's no denying it now. He has a stomach, he has a _baby_. A person inside of him and Zayn loves the kid, he does. He's not heartless, but. There's the constant thought of Niall leaving him in more ways than one that fogs up everything else. That has him immobile and frozen in a way that doesn't compare on that night months ago.

"Jay's great. Can't keep still for shit, but. He's perfect. Gonna be a track star or a football player, mark my words."

"You're gonna have your own tiny Neymar."

Niall blushes at that, averts his gaze and gives a shy laugh. Zayn automically swoons with it, almost pinches his skin to make sure that did indeed happen but Niall currently rubbing the back of his neck proves it.

"Nah, never that. Maybe a little Theo. With his hair and all. That'll be cute."

"You're the father, he's going to be cute either way."

Zayn. . . did not expect to say that. He doesn't regret it, nor feels umcomfortable because. Well, it's the truth. He's always been comforted by the truth. Or was it a lie? Dunno, he doesn't know. He just knows Niall makes cute kids. Look at Avery! And Zayn's honestly not bias thinking that.

"Thanks, Z. Kinda rich coming from you, of all people, but. It's cool."

Wait. What? What did he say? What did Zayn say?

"What did I say?" he asks, spreads his arms apart because he needs to move something. It's not even dinner yet and he already feels grounded into the tile he's standing on. "I didn't-- I meant you're. I just meant what I said, nothing deeper or--"

"Whoa," Niall raises his hands, laughing cautiously. "Easy there, mate. What I mean is that's pretty rich coming from you when. You know, you have that face. And stuff."

Now Zayn's blushing. He's so fucking _hot_ in the sweater. "Oh." Zayn's that kid in school whos' had their crush admit their undying love and he doesn't know what to say back. He never had a chance. "Thank you."

Niall snorts, but it's not mocking. So Zayn moves until he's picking up the package of bottled water, places it under the island where it belongs. When he looks up Niall looks surprised, caught in the middle of something Zayn wouldn't be able to explain at the moment. But before he could ask Niall looks away and goes back to emptying the grocery bags, hands over a few products that are stored near where Zayn's standing.

And this is it, right here. Because it's not completely whole, might not ever be, but they're trying, and they're trying together and that's all Zayn could ask for. That's all he'll ever ask for.

  
It's not a quiet meal. Only because a normal dinner is never quiet between them.

Avery talks about simply everything, and Zayn needs to constantly remind her to not speak with her mouth full. But either she ignores him or innocently forgets because a few minutes later she's back at it again, and Zayn doesn't like to repeat himself over and over again so whatever. At least she's eating her food. But when isn't she.

She eats both of the tiny slices Niall cut for her and nibbles on the last few chips she has left as Niall clears his throat.

"Ems, there's something we need to talk about, okay? Me, you and your Baba."

Avery sighs, puts her head on her hand because she doesn't like serious conversations.

Zayn's only still alive because he didn't have food in his mouth to inadvertently choke on.

"You're almost a big girl, sweetie," Niall grabs her hand, "So I wanted you to be a part of this conversation, okay?"

She nods, and Niall looks at Zayn for his approval, but Zayn's not going to agree. Can't agree when he didn't see this coming. And he goes to shake his head, minutely shake his head so his daughter doesn't see but Niall carries on, anyway.

"You're gonna be going to school this year, babe. I wanted to know if you'd like to go to school with Scar or Theo."

Zayn. Is going to kill Niall. He is. He vows to kill him.

Not really. But he is fucking aggravated. And relieved. And he doesn't know how he can be filled with two opposite feelings at the same time, but. Leave it to Niall to do the impossible.

"Um. Well can I go to both?" she asks. Niall laughs, and Zayn releases this harsh bellow that's supposed to be sincere, but he's so relieved he doesn't know another way to express it. He accepts the looks of perplexed they shoot him, because he's still confused in a way, too. But he brushes his own behavior off gently and they discuss Avery's schooling and they honestly get nowhere, because she won't suffice until she's able to go to both.

"'Kay, babe, you can't do that, but why don't you go to Scar's school first, since it's closer, and if you don't like that, we can always try Theo's. How's that sound?"

She has a pout, shrugs carelessly and hops off the chair before Zayn can say anything else. "Can we eat the brownies now?" she asks Niall, pulling at his shirt. If she only knew Niall could say no to her if he needed to; Zayn never could.

"In a little, babe, I'll call you when."

"Okay. Don't eat any without me! I wanna be there when Jay eats his first brownie."

"Alright then," he laughs, and she saunters away and it's only Zayn and Niall left.

"The food was good," Zayn says, because even if Niall didn't do anything outstanding he still deserves the praise.

"Hmm, thanks," Niall says, flicking a crispy chip aside.

"Want more?" Zayn asks, offering the plate of the leftover slices. Niall shakes his head. And when Zayn gets up to clean the table Niall tells him to sit back down. "Pardon?"

"Sit down for now. You don't have to clean yet, so." 

Of course, Zayn sits. Why wouldn't he sit when he's sat across from Niall.

"Are you okay?" he goes on to ask when Niall doesn't say anything else after that.

Niall rubs his face, leans his head on a closed fist and smiles at Zayn, then looks away and sighs. "M'fine. Stomach feels funny, but that's normal." He hums, looks over to Zayn and asks, "So what you did today, then?"

"Uh. . ." Zayn's the most boring person he knows. "Nothing, really? Talked to my pop, Bosco kept me company."

"Mm, yeah, he's a good boy," Niall tells, tapping an unknown beat on the edge of the table.

"Yeah, he is," Zayn agrees. Then it's quiet again, and it's the kind they don't spend time in. The kind they've been experiencing so much lately and okay, something doesn't _feel_ right, suddenly. "You good?"

"Y'asked me that already, Z," he whispers, tearing off a piece of crust and opening it down the middle, letting the white dough feel the air. But he doesn't sound convincing, and maybe. Maybe, you know, he's having a bad day, that's it. Maybe he just wants to talk about it and he can talk to Zayn about it. He can tell Zayn anything, he'll always listen.

"What is it?" Zayn asks. 

"I was. . . you know, thinking a lot today," Niall starts moving a brunet strand aside. "And um. . ." he shrugs, mutters under his breath. He laughs shortly after that, but the noise is ugly and he doesn't smile with it.

"Babe, what happened? You can talk to me," Zayn soothely says, leans a bit closer so Niall can look up at him instead of the plate. Niall gives a short nod, but he's talking to himself and Zayn doesn't think that was for him.

"I really thought a lot today, Zayn. To the point my head hurts a bit now, so."

"O--" Zayn doesn't want Niall to get headaches. Zayn doesn't want Niall to be like this. Never, ever. "Okay, babe. That's fine, yeah? Just take it easy. Want to talk to me now?"

Niall hums once again, and says, "I passed by the magazine rack, at the market. " He's not smiling for once, just looks bored or tired. "And there on the corner, was a little picture of _your_ girl, and it said she's pregnant, with _your_ baby."

It takes some time for Zayn to process this, only because he's so preoccupied with getting that frown off Niall's face. But when the words click, and they zip into gear, and all the cogs in Zayn's brain start to work the way they're supposed to, begins doing their jobs, does Zayn blanch entirely.

"Wh--....What?"

"And it was so hard," Niall goes on, tapping a finger against the table again. "It was so hard trying to ignore it, because my daughter was with me, you know? And I couldn't have her seeing that. . ."

"That's," Zayn interrupts, remembering to blink when his eyes dry up. "That's a lie," he shakes his head, because it _is_ , because he pulled out both times and who the fuck is paying money to read this garbage? This shit that destroys families. It's destroying _his family._ "Niall, that's--

". . .But I couldn't help it, and I scrolled through the article, and," and he looks up at Zayn here, doesn't hide his disgust, "You went and had lunch with her? A few times? You kissed her in public? That's actually _more_ than what you said, Zayn, because--" he stops, blinks to clear his vision and shakes his head. "You had me like a fool for those times and. I find out today? That it was way more than a piece of ass?"

"I--" Zayn gapes, only because that's a lie. They've _never_ kissed, they've _never_ had lunch together. Zayn can't even remember her voice. "No, no. That's not true. That's not-- Please tell me you don't believe that shit, Niall, when I'm sitting right here, telling you, that I told you everything there was to it."

"And I'm sat right here, Zayn," Niall says clearly, leaning closer, "telling you, that I told you I can't completely believe anything you ever say to me."

There's a screech, or a painful shriek. Or something. Something dislodged itself from the room. But when Zayn looks, he's standing up and Niall's still sitting, shaking his leg as if he doesn't have the time to be here and. And neither does Zayn.

"Fuck that!" he says. He--

No. No, no, no. He's not going to scream. He's not going to overreact because. This is fine. Niall's pregnant, he doesn't mean it. He's not thinking straight. He did all that thinking for no reason. Because he'll take all the shame for cheating, he'll withstand Niall not ever trusting him again because he has the right to feel that way. But.

Zayn's not-- Zayn isn't gonna take the blame for some shit he _knows_ he didn't do.

"What the _fuck_ , Niall? You think I'd lie about _that_? You think I'd keep that from you? From _you_? When there's nothing left for me to _fucking_ lose at this point, huh?"

Zayn couldn't picture a color if he had to. He couldn't name a loved one if he had to. He couldn't make sense of anything if he had to.

"Okay, whoa, calm down," Niall raises his arms, raises an eyebrow and raises from his seat. "You calm down, alright? Because I've listened to you all that time and now you're going to listen to me."

They only stand there, and Zayn looks away first. There's a pepperoni on Zayn's plate. It's there because he plucked it off his slice. And he looks at it now, and he's not going to look away because there's only Niall to look at.

He's not even prepared for what's coming.

"Zayn, look," Niall sighs. Zayn doesn't see, but he pushes his hair aside, sighs again until a jumble of syllables come out. "You're my best friend. Despite the fact _you_ messed up, you're my best friend, and I've been trying to work this out since bringing you back home, but--"

"I just don't know where this is coming from, like I told you everything and I--" Zayn stammers, counting on his fingers. He's shaking, and that's okay, because if Niall can say all this and not expect Zayn to react, he can offer his body some type of release. He sighs, too, balls his hands because the anger is tearing him up, and making his throat bleed, and is fucking _killing_ him, but he has to do this. And he has to bite his tongue. "We were just doing fine. Baby, I can change, if that's what you want. I'm changing right now, and. This is all so _hard_ , but just--"

"I talked to Liam," Niall interrupts, moving back in his seat, keeping space between them. "I talked to him, and before you jump to conclusions he had an open mind about everything."

"Okay," Zayn nods, because he can work with open minded discussions. "Okay, and what? Does he want me to leave again? More space. Because we can agree to something, you know?"

"He's still in touch with his attorney," Niall says evenly, biting a corner of his lip. He's also--

Wait. What did he--

"They're still friends after the divorce with Sophia, he has his number and everything. And m--"

"What did you just say?" Zayn interjects, leaning his head to the side. Niall only raises both of his eyebrows this time, purses his mouth with a tiny shrug. "What the fuck you're talking about an attorney, Niall?"

"Um, well, exactly that," Niall says under his breath, as if Zayn's the deluded one.

"You're--" Niall sits unfazed, rolls his head to the side when Zayn takes too long to reply. "You're filing for a divorce?" he bitterly chuckles, moving his jaw to the side. "So. You're telling me," Zayn rubs his hands together, presses them against his mouth as he tries to gather words. "You're saying, because of a shitload story, you're thinking of divorcing me?"

"It's not that--"

"Because let's be honest, Niall, we're not getting a divorce. I made that clear from the beginning so what exactly _are_ you getting at now, babe? 'Cause I'm really fucking confused," he laughs. Zayn laughs, and he laughs one more time, this sharp, quick noise because if he doesn't laugh he'll tear his own body apart. 

"I don't entirely believe it, Zayn. The article, I don't believe all of that," Niall informs, trying to stand his ground but Zayn looks chaotic enough for the both of them. "Because half the shit didn't make sense, you know? But. . ." he shrugs, stands up with the heaviest sigh Zayn's ever heard. "This is never going to go away. We can stay together, I can live after giving birth and we can raise a little family, but. We're never gonna outrun that. And that's _your_ fault," he seethes, jabbing a rough finger towards Zayn. "I can't stay around to watch that take down all of us. We have a daughter--"

"We have a daughter, we have a _fucking_ daughter, so why would you even talk about getting a divorce, Niall? Just get that out of your head."

Niall's quiet, the slightly audible drone of the television seeping through the dining room. It all only makes Zayn tick even more.

"Get that out of your fucking head!"

"No, Zayn!" he bellows right back, sluggishly standing up. But he's pregnant, and he shouldn't go through this but Niall shouldn't have brought that up. "I've been thinking about this family since I _fucking_ found out. And now that I think about me you can't say shit!"

"Don't want out, Niall!" Zayn says louder, immediately going to stand by Niall. "I'll leave if you want, or if you want to go somewhere, get away from all this, you can do that, too. Fucking party for all I care, I won't stop you." But Niall only goes gather the dishes, raises his eyebrows once as the only piece that he's paying attention. " For God's sake, do whatever you want, just don't call for a divorce! _Please_."

He doesn't want to be that guy. Zayn doesn't want to be that guy who got divorced more than anything. But more than everything, he doesn't-- _can't_ \--have the willpower to live with Niall leaving him. "Niall! Niall, I'm _talking_. Just, think about it. Think of Avery, for fuck's-- Please, just think--"

"You didn't think of me when you fucked that whore," Niall mutters, pushing past Zayn towards the kitchen.

Zayn's knee jumps, continues to throb. His jaw's tensing and he couldn't count his fingers if he was asked to. Everything's jumping too quick for him to grasp onto.

"Stay here for all I care," Niall shouts while Zayn stands still by the table. "I don't give a fuck what you do but I'm calling and that's it. I've _thought_ about this for months, okay?"

Zayn goes to the kitchen, finds Niall roughly shoving the dishes in the sink. "Don't do this," Zayn shakes his head when Niall doesn't say anything, when Niall notices his presence in the room for the third time. "I'm sorry for what I did, and I can't say that enough, but I'm really fucking trying here. Every goddamn day, Niall. All the fucking time, and. You can't-- You can't fucking take that _away_ from me!"

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, Zayn, I really am," Niall spits, throwing the rag in his hand on the counter. "I'm sorry for a lot, actually. I'm sorry you had to go and cheat, when I was _literally_ home during it. I was right here, with our daughter, when you slept with her. I'm sorry that you felt that I _wasn't_ here, because that's the only thing I'm accountable for.

But I'm not sorry _for_ you. Because you're a grown man who can _talk_ , Zayn! You can _talk_. You could've talked to _me_. I was your goddamn husband--"

"You still _are_ ," Zayn screams, throwing a hand in the air. "Don't fucking say it like that, I'm right here. And you know that's a lie."

"I love you, you know?" Niall says, as if this is all new information. He might as well shrug, because he's so overly casual with everything. "I love you, Zayn, I do. But I won't be happy with you again, and you should know _that_."

"You love me, that's the point. You don't-- Fuck, you don't give up if you still love someone."

"And you don't sleep with someone else if you loved me, Zayn!" Niall laughs once, tilting his head to the side. "There you go again," he continues, gesturing with a hand towards. "Staying speechless, not knowing what to say, and. There's nothing left to say, Z."

"No." Zayn's not going to survive the end of today, fuck the rest. "No, Niall. There's a _lot_ left to say, and we're not going to get a fucking divorce. That's _not_ gonna happen, we're gonna talk about this tomorrow, when you're rested because right now that's shit. That's _bullshit_!"

"You fucked her. _You_ fucked her! So don't be bitter I'm ending it now when you ended it a long time ago."

"Niall. This isn't--"

"Daddy? Baba?"

They both turn to Avery, where she's leaning her head against the kitchen's entrance, hands hugging herself with tears in her eyes.

"Baby," Niall immediately goes over, hesitantly kneeling on his good knee as he dries her face. "Baby, don't cry. We're okay. Why are you crying? Did Daddy and Baba scare you?"

"I was going to ask if the brownies are done," she sobs, a hand going up to rub her eye. "But you and Baba were screaming at each other. It was scary, you and Baba are scary."

"Oh, honey, we're not scary. We're just. . ." he sighs, looking up to Zayn with a scowl. He's still shaking, red down his neck and jumping fingers. And Avery sees this, doesn't _want_ to. "No, come here," he says when she goes to walk away, grabbing her forearm with a thumb rubbing the skin reassuringly. "I'm about to take the brownies out now. Wanna see?"

She shakes her head, mutters something Zayn can't hear. He's still trying to work his body into forgetting what Niall said. But after a while, Niall says something to her, rubs her back with a steady nod, and after a little silence she nods shortly, doesn't look up as she makes her way over to where Niall's opening the oven. Along the way she tentatively grabs Zayn's hand, pulls him with her. And while Niall asks if she wants frosting or sprinkles, if she wants them with chocolate or strawberry milk, she doesn't let go of Zayn.

And Zayn's still disappointed, might not look Niall in the eye for a long time after this, but. His daughter. _His daughter_. That's what this comes down to.

Either Avery'll hold onto his hand, or grip the leg of his pants, or lean her head against his waist with her arms wrapped around his thigh, Zayn stays there. She keeps him with her and Niall. And Zayn always praised how smart she is, but right now he'd give anything if she could just be a kid again, could smile like earlier and not try to keep her parents together.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ughhhhh idk what to say!!! i'm so disappointed in myself :( i promised i wouldn't post a late chapter and here i am, almost two months later. (i'm a fake bitch, ik.)  
> this chapter isn't as long as usual ://// and not only was it because i literally couldn't find nothing to write for this part in the story but also because i don't want this to be another 140k+ fic and i'm only about 50k away from that which is actually a very little bit with what i have left to write D:  
> there may be another dull chapter right after this one, only to makes certain ends meet before the real deal starts going down. like, what i've had in mind to write way before i gave it a thought to actually start writing this fic.  
> *sigh* i hope you like this :( and i hope you're not so mad at me. and thank you for whoever's still around, i would've been left tbh.  
> back on track, I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS AND YOU'RE ALL AMAZING ILY XX

_Niall's in Harry's and Lou's kitchen with Harry, stirring the noodles in the steaming water while shaking the salt shaker over it, sighing in satisfaction._

_He can stay in the kitchen his whole life, honestly._

_"Can I add my own stuff to the sauce now, please?" Harry begs behind him. Niall has a head on his shoulder and an arm reaching for the simmering red pot before he can reply. "I just want to put a little bit of cinnamon. You won't even taste it, swear to God."_

_"First off, shoo," Niall scolds, poking Harry's chest away with the clean tip of his spoon. "This is **my** spaghetti I'm making. Second, you can put the bread in the toaster oven now."_

_"Okay, **first off** ," Harry bites back, but he's like a child right now, so Niall can't take him seriously, "this is my kitchen. And second, no no no! My garlic bread is not going to be put in that tiny thing. It's going to get the full effect, in **this** oven."_

_"No no no. The lamb needs to cook alone. So go," he pats Harry's bum away, washes his hands before cutting up the peppers._

_Harry's audible groan lasts too long, and Niall looks up unimpressed when he hears Harry inhale two lungfuls to only purposely groan some more. "You're a pain in the ass."_

_"Oooo," Harry smirks, shimmying his way over to the beat of some unknown music after he closes the toaster oven. "But not in yours now, am I?"_

_"You. Are a despicable human being. I'll put you on timeout with your daughter if you keep this up."_

_"Oh yeah, that reminds me," Harry mutters, sauntering towards the living room where a four-year-old's sitting with a scowl, blue eyes focused on the floor with unruly chestnut curls jumping each time her heel meets the floor with a rough thwack._

_Niall hears Harry murmur words, a voice that's too high-pitched to sound so angry, before there's a giggle and two sets of feet marching towards the kitchen._

_"Uncle Niall, can I help?" Scar asks. But she's very demanding, and she doesn't take no for an answer. Niall knows it's not because she's spoiled--though she really **really** is. She's just so much like Louis, it's scary, it's overwhelming. And Niall doesn't understand how Harry does it._

_He doesn't want to._

_"Sure, pretty girl. I have a very important task for you," he whispers closely, kneeling down as he puts his hands on her shoulders to guide her. "I need you to watch the meat, okay? And I need you to call me when it beeps, because only **you** can hear it. Is that cool?"_

_"Well," she sighs, plump bottom lip jutting out. "It sounds boring, but okay." She sits down on the floor, pale hand holding her chin up as she looks sternly at the cooking dish, as if daring it to disobey._

_"Love the shit outta her, but she can be scary, how do you do it?" Niall hisses to Harry when he stands up, grabbing a can of beer from the fridge. It's the cheap kind, but after Louis found Scarlett in the kitchen with the remaining bottles of beer shattered on the floor, they resorted to the shitty metal container Niall holds in his hand._

_"She's not **scary** , she's just," Harry shrugs. "She has a mind of her own."_

_When Niall turns to look at her, he finds her reflection from the oven's window staring back at him. "She's something, alright."_

_"Shut up, how's Avery?"_

_"Oh my God, Harry, she's the prettiest thing in the whole world, you should've seen her the other day. She finally said Baba! For some fucked up reason she can't pronounce the B sound twice in a row. Like, 'bye bye' is 'ah-bye'. So we were on the sofa and I pointed to myself and she said, 'Dada,' which is what she calls both me **and** Zayn. So when I pointed to Z she says, and **clearly** , 'Baba.' And me and Zayn freaked out after that. But then when we asked her to say it again she wouldn't. I think she's making us sweat, you know?"_

_Harry stifles a chuckle, gestures for Niall to continue on when Niall waits for him to laugh appropriately. "Go on, mate. M'listening."_

_" **Anywayssss** ," Niall stresses jokingly. He doesn't say anything else when Zayn and Liam come along._

_Zayn has a grip on Avery's hands who's fumbly walking between his legs. His back is hunched, head bowed facing Avery while he takes slow steps to match her pace. Her chunky legs wobble each time she moves forward, small feet clad in even smaller_ _boots doing more stomping than actual trekking._

_"Look at Daddy, Ave. Where's Daddy, babe?"_

_Avery looks up at Zayn first, tilts her head back with her accustomed moue. Zayn lets go of one of her hands, points to Niall who's watching all this unfold and when Avery follows his finger she instantly starts babbling. She smiles and tries to hop over but she loses her balance and ends up hanging by the sole grip Zayn has on her hand._

_Everyone's laughing, even Scar who turned to look at them and still harbors a tiny jealousy that her spot as the baby in the bunch has been taken._

_Zayn moves to grab her wrists and tredges quicker, Ems' little feet padding lightly and by the time they reach Niall she gasps over a giggle, buries her face in the material of his jeans and holds on tightly, doesn't let go when Zayn attempts picking her up._

_She's thirteen-months old now, still has difficulty walking on her own. So Niall fights with himself over whether he should scoop her up and gobble her whole or let her gain more adjustment in her legs. He settles on the latter, watches her bounce around and look up for his approval._

_He's in love, really. So in love with this girl who's barely a year old._

_"Told ya," Zayn says. Niall finds him shaking his head and smirking towards Liam. "Didn't I tell you."_

_"Well, I needed to see it to believe it," Liam laughs, petting Scar's head when he walks by. "So I'm heading off. Got a date with Naomi in an hour."_

_"Wait, what happened with Loni?"_

_Liam smiles tightly, shakes his head at Niall in answer. "Didn't work out. Anyway, see you lot next time."_

_"No, don't gooooo," Louis says, appearing and latching onto his back before he reaches the door. "He's trying to get rid of us and you're **letting** him, Harold, do something!"_

_"Liam. Stay," Harry orders, pointing to the ground._

_"M'not a dog. And I'm not gettin' rid of you, I'll see you soon. In a week or two, if Louis has a say."_

_"I have a say. I have a mighty say. You can't get rid of us."_

_When the band broke up, Liam pulled them together afterwards for an embrace that was too emotional on his part and stuttered over how they were all on their own now, how now they were going their seperate ways. In other words: they finally had the chance to break their dependency on each other and finally they won't have to breathe the same air._

_So now they make fun of him, because he can't--and won't--get rid of them._

_"I seriously got to go now," he laughs, limps away since Louis' draped over him, feet dragging against the tiles. "Love you, guys, now get Louis off of me."_

_Liam pats each of their backs, gives Zayn a hug when he's close since Zayn won't have it any other way and leans down to ruffle Ave's hair. "You be good, right, babe? Uncle Li is going to hear good things when I get back, yeah?"_

_He was appointed Avery's godfather just the month prior, he and Doniya standing together as they held a baby drenched in too-much white clothing. Maybe in the beginning he was timid about it but he begged Zayn via text to present her._

_"Ah-bye," Avery murmurs. She leans her head in, touches her mouth to Liam's cheek and says, "mah!" when she moves away._

_Liam looks close to crying. When he stands up she fusses, reaches a hand up towards him. But when he squats by her she falls silent, only erupts in cries when he stands up again._

_"She doesn't want you to go," Niall laughs, bending down to pick her up. "I'll distract her, better leave now before she realizes."_

_Liam makes his escape with a frown, promises to come back with the biggest teddy bear. Avery'll abandon it in a day._

_Avery whines after Niall's hand moves from her face, but after awhile she just sighs and looks around, bangs an open palm on the glass window behind Niall._

_"How was she with ya?" Niall turns to Zayn, finds the man laughing at something Louis said._

_"Hm? Oh, she was fine. She was great, wouldn't let go of me for anything."_

_"Really?"_

_"Yeah, that's what Li and I were talking about," Zayn chuckles, rubbing his nose when he turns to fully face Niall. "He mentioned how she stayed latched to me, that I must be her favorite in the house. And I told him, like, 'you haven't seen her with Ni, then, because she goes buckwild if she doesn't have his attention.'"_

_"That's not true," Niall smiles, but he's mindlessly kissing Avery's cheek while he says this and doesn't notice._

_"Mhm, don't focus on her for a minute," Zayn challenges, folding his arms over his chest._

_"But she's so cute," Niall pouts, petting her hair down. "How do you expect me to do that?"_

_Zayn laughs through his nose, flares his nostrils and presses his lips together. He doesn't look away, so neither does Niall. Normally they'd stick their tongue out by this point, playfully roll their eyes to start a bit of humorous banter. But Zayn's eyes only narrow slightly and Niall's face starts to burn; he feels fire licking up his neck and settling over his cheeks, ears scorching hot._

_"Love you," Niall murmurs softly, giving a little smile that matches the moment._

_Zayn's grin gentles, lifts a hand to tap a thumb over Niall's cheekbone._

_It's here where Avery starts slapping the other side of Niall's face, mumbles against his chin and Niall looks at her only for her to stop, give a cheeky smile before focusing on the window again._

_"Told you, love."_

_"Get off it, that's not fair. You did that on purpose.”_

_“Babe, I love you, too,” Zayn laughs, keeping the hand against Niall’s face to pull him in tenderly and kiss him. It’s the sweet, short kind, where Niall hears the smack of lips when they separate. “Know what’s today?”_

_“Um, what?” Niall mutters, because he’s a little unwired in the brain._

_Zayn tilts his head to the side, pushes Niall’s bangs until they swoop over his forehead. “We’re eight months today. Like, married.” He brings his hand up and wiggles the ring finger for emphasis._

_“No shit?” Niall gasps. “You fuc-- Oh shit, babe. I didn’t know! I thought. Thought we weren’t doing monthiversaries. That was **your** rule.”_

_“I know, I know,” Zayn raises his hands up. “I’m guilty, sue me. I just like the number eight, so.” He shrugs. “Wanted to bring it up, don’t worry ‘bout it.”_

_“You piece of shit. Ugh, I feel so stupid right now.”_

_“No, babe, don’t.” Zayn shakes his head, rubs Niall’s neck lightly. “I didn’t bring it up for that, seriously. Just wanted to say I remember, and stuff. Even though you thought I wouldn’t.”_

_This is where Niall sticks his tongue out, because he’s right. Niall didn’t believe Zayn will remember their date after two months._

_Zayn only rolls his eyes before kissing Niall’s forehead. “Hey, look,” he points to Avery, “She’s quiet, not bothering you.”_

_She’s not. Only has her head on Niall’s shoulder, looking between the two of them._

_“Baba’s a big meanie, isn’t he? Breaking his own rule after I didn’t wanna agree to it in the first place.”_

_She hums, messes with her ear as she clearly says, “Baba.”_

_Zayn gapes, freezes and Niall adjusts until Avery’s sitting on his hip, looking up between them with vague confusion settled between her tiny black eyebrows._

_“Baba? Did you just say Baba, Ems?”_

_“Can you say it again?” Zayn asks, chest expanded as he wills himself to stand still. “Can say you ‘Baba’ for me, princess?”_

_Avery squints her eyes, slyly puckers her mouth in response, dimple poked into her cheek, before leaning on Niall again. “Dada,” she says happily._

_Zayn throws his head back in defeat, grumbles under his breath. But it only makes Avery hum joyfully and clutch onto Niall tighter._

_“I’m all alone in my own home,” Zayn says, leaning on one hip. “You’ve betrayed me. I was here first.”_

_He’s joking. He’s **more** than joking. But Niall still takes the time to pinch his nose, leans in to kiss Zayn before his eyes are open. He keeps in mind there are two kids in their vicinity, so only lightly does he bite Zayn’s lip. Just enough that he sees the effect of it when he pulls back, the tautness in Zayn’s shoulder._

_“If you stick around, trust me, you’ll never be alone.”_

_There’s a catcall, and they turn to Louis taking the lamb out of the oven, a wiggle in his eyebrows as he stares at them._

_“You young lovebirds are on fire. I remember those days, right, Harold?” It takes too long for a reply, and when Louis turns Harry’s sat on the floor with Scar, whispering between each other. “For the love of God, get up and set the table. What are you doing?”_

_“Louis, my love, I don’t know how to tell you this,” Harry begins when he stands up, Scar already on her feet with a stern expression. “But me and Scar discussed over it, and we’re kicking you out. It’s time we make room for a dog in the house and your behind is taking up too much space.”_

_Scarlett giggles, blushes over her pale skin and presses herself against Harry’s side. She only laughs more when Louis goes along._

_“But how will I ever pack my booty? Will you help me, sweetheart?” he asks his daughter, only to amuse her because Niall can tell Louis’ biting his tongue and is struggling to refrain from rolling his eyes._

_“No,” she chuckles, snorts when Louis pouts in rejection._

_“Well, that settles it, your father will help me instead.”_

_“No can do, my heart, because--”_

_“Just shut up and serve the food, I’m starving,” Zayn sighs._

_Niall puts Avery on the floor next to him, holds onto one of her hands as he walks towards the living room. (Louis only uses the dining room when Harry’s mad at him or when in-laws are over.)_

_Sat on the sofa with a quiet baby on his lap, he turns to peer into the kitchen to find Louis rubbing Harry’s back, his head hooked over his shoulder as they talk. It’s only seconds before Louis laughs, squints his eyes and Harry kisses his cheek, juggles two plates in his hands as he makes Louis laugh more._

_Niall finds Zayn pointing at them, exaggeratedly rolling hazel eyes. He can clearly read the words in Zayn's expression, the amusing **can you believe this?**_

_**Yeah** , Niall thinks, but returns the gesture with a perfect scoff and heavy roll of his own eyes. **Yeah, I definitely can.**_

  
Niall. Is not the smartest person.

And he's fine with that. He knows better than most people (excluding his mam) how brash he can become when dealing with serious situations. Any situation, honestly. But even with serious dilemmas, he can be reckless when he makes up his mind.

But he does not regret calling for the divorce.

Days are fine. Mostly spent napping because he's so fucking tired, lately. But his conscious hours are spent either in the kitchen or the living room with Avery.

She's been a little bit somber since the kitchen episode. More quiet in the mornings and tends to ponder frequently during films. Niall sometimes stops her, nudges her face gently until she's giggling and resting her head on his lap, a small hand going through her hair. And sometimes he doesn't; he just. . . doesn't. Doesn't know what's going through her head; knows she's a lot like Zayn in that aspect. She needs her space. No matter how small.

Zayn's been giving himself space, also. And there are times Niall forgets he's there, but he'll drift into a nap on the recliner and wake up with a blanket over his frame, feet propped up and his neck at a comfortable angle. Or he'll hear Avery laughing from her room, accompanied by her father's breathy laugh.

Niall doesn't like that, to be honest. He doesn't like feeling like a stranger in his own home. Doesn't like the fact that he and Zayn only talk when they _need_ to, not when they want to. He comes across something on tumblr and can't lean over to laugh at it with Zayn. But he realizes this afterwards, when he's already bent towards the side and Zayn's name is on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill with the chuckle, and Zayn's not there. He can't ask Zayn if he wants Niall to wash his favorite sweater with the load; Niall still adds it, knows Zayn will silently appreciate it.

He can't exchange a simple curious question with him, can't share pillow-talk with him since he doesn't sleep with Niall anymore. Niall can't mutter nonsenical thoughts he's had in his head all day and have Zayn reply with his own theory. Niall would be lying if he said he didn't miss it.

He misses Zayn. He's always missed Zayn since the night of Liam's birthday party. Because ever since that night the Zayn he completely adores hasn't walked through the door. Bits of him, yes. Sparse flecks of the man Niall loves appear every once in a while. And Niall loves all of them. But he wants _all_ of him. And he doesn't want to convince himself that he's never going to witness him again.

Niall gets it, though. He understands. He knows Zayn loves him, in his own way. He knows Zayn's taking the divorce badly, harshly, unbearably. He knows Zayn needs to cope by himself. That maybe his ignoring Niall isn't in vain, nor to be spiteful. He knows Zayn works in his head before channeling his plans into action. So Niall will let him be.

But (and Niall does _not_ want to seem needy nor selfish) he's pregnant. And he doesn't want to do any of this alone. He doesn't want to wake up alone, doesn't want to stay under the same roof as his (soon-to-be ex-)husband with a thick wall of cement between them. He wants Zayn with him, only as friends. Only as the way they were before. Before the feelings and the marriage and. Before the kids. He wants the Zayn during tour, the Zayn who spent his most glorious moments high and never could've put into words how much the band meant to him. He wants the Zayn who knew how to get Niall to express exactly what he was feeling and never laughed at him when Niall barely even made sense. He wants the Zayn who persistently challenged Liam at boxing despite always losing. The Zayn who'd pet Harry's hair back whenever he was used by people who only liked him for the fame. The Zayn who helped Louis pull pranks on Paul or Julian when everyone else was too tired.

Niall just wants the man he fell in love with. Because no matter how many times his mam tells him what a bad idea it is, that spending time together will only complicate things more, Niall can't see anything else becoming more complex.

But he does not, at _all_ , regret calling for a divorce. He doesn't regret the petition he applied for, doesn't regret listing the reason as _'Adultery of the other spouse_ '. He doesn't regret the shitty process it all is. He doesn't regret the tips Liam gave him that are so fucking tiring trying to remember.

He doesn't regret the divorce. He just regrets the timing of it.

 

Avery's hopping ahead of him, stomping her sneakers into the white tile as they walk down the frozen foods aisle, one of Niall's hand steering the cart and the other texting.

"Daddy, look what I found," Avery calls, and Niall puts his phone away to see her struggling to open the freezer door. She's huffing by the time Niall gets next to her, a cold carton of ice cream in her arms. "What does it say? This one looks yummy."

"Um, it's Coconut Almond Fudge."

"Coconut Almond Fudge! I didn't know they had this."

"Yeah, me neither," he says, grabbing it from her to read more of the description. It looks so fucking good, he's going to eat some in the car ride home. "Let's get it. Want anything else?"

"Can we buy Baba ice cream?" she mutters, pouting up at Niall with a knowing hold on the jeans by his knee. "I think Baba will really like some ice cream of his own."

"Sure, princess. Want to pick Baba's ice cream for him? Then you can say you did it all by yourself."

She's already scanning the selection before he's done, a finger against her mouth with her hair slowly coming out of her ponytail.

Niall goes back to his phone, takes advantage of the moment and texts Zayn.

_Ems is buying u ice cream haha, want anything specific ? :)_

They've gone through chocolate, cookie dough, and banana split by the time Zayn texts back.

_No i'm alrite. Not really up for ice cream_

_Cmon :( ur gonna break ur daughters heart . Shes catchin frost bite as we speak looking for ur pint_

_Dont want that to happen. Anything is fine then, im not picky_

Niall scoffs, closes his phone and tells Avery to grab the mint chocolate chip type by her shoulder, where her arms are stretched to reach the triple fudge on the rack way too high for her tiny frame.

They're paying, and Niall's still bothered by the time they get to their car. This is the first time he's done a big food shopping since growing his belly, the humongous sweater over his torso doing a better job than he thought. But there are two cases of bottled water under the cart that the cashier placed after scanning them. And he's in no position to bend down nor lift any heavy loads. So he kind of just stands there dumbly while his daughter picks up the bags she's able to carry and aligns them in the trunk like she's playing Tetris.

"Excuse me," Niall calls when he finds a coworker setting the carts in order in their respectable slots. It takes calling him two more times before he looks up.

He's a young boy, no older than twenty with a long, thin, and wiry frame. And he scurries after Niall like his tail's between his legs.

"Hey, um," Niall points towards the cart, "if it's no problem, I was wondering if you can, uh. Put these in the trunk?" He realizes how snobbish it sounds after clarity wakes the boy up and he's reaching for one of the packages. "Sorry, I sound like a--" Avery's standing next to him, appraising the boy with narrowed eyes "-- _meanie_ , I know, but. Uh, my back's been killing me and. Can't use my arms for anything, so."

"And my Daddy's pregnant, so he can't pick up heavy things."

" _Ems!_ Why don't you just get in the car, and be quiet for once," he hisses.

"No problem, Niall Horan," the boy shakes his head, smirking when he's closing the trunk and pushing the cart to stand next to them. "I know all about, erm. Your pregnancy, sir, if I may."

"Don't call me that. I'm just _Niall_. Haven't even reached me prime yet."

"Right," the boy laughs, but it's genuine and he tucks his hands under his armpits. "Sorry. _Niall_ , I'll just," he stammers, blushing. "My brother, he's, uh. If I may," he repeats, "he's a big fan of your band, still is. Went to at least one show in all your tours. So, like, he's one of those that keeps track of all your doings and. Wait, that sounds weird."

"That _is_ weird, mate, but it's not the first time I hear of this," Niall laughs, offering his hand to shake. "And you are? The brother of a fan of mine."

"Adam. Don't get me wrong, you guys were neat, and I might've not been the biggest fan, but. You see," he pauses, shaking his head and patting his pockets. "I was just going to ask if I can get a picture with you, please? Before I make a bigger fool of myself, I don't really. Never met a celebrity."

"Sure, I'll agree to a picture. But please don't call me a celebrity either, it makes me uncomfortable. I'm just a person, at the end of the day."

Adam nods, gives his phone over when Niall extends his hand and it's a one-two-three snap before Niall's giving it back and Adam is blushing more hotly.

"Thank you, my brother will like that a lot. Might kill me, but," he shrugs, laughs with a flick of his hair and aw, Niall feels warm in an innocent way.

"Hey, don't sweat it, man. Tell your brother I said he's great. And that I said hi."

Adam nods, bites his lip when he focuses on Niall clearer than before. "Congrats, also. On the baby. I know second male pregnancies aren't." He flails a hand. "You know, that. But, still. I think you're a strong person with what you're doing. And in the situation you're in, from what I can see, it seems likes you're handling it well. And you should be proud of yourself."

Niall slowly smiles, gives a soft shrug before he's hugging Adam lightly. He thanks him, pats his back once and tells him he'll be shopping at this market from now on, to expect more of him.

Adam laughs, says he'll tell his brother that.

 

"Can we talk?" Niall asks Zayn. It's a few days later, and the last time Niall can remember the both of them being in the same space was when they put the food away.

Zayn looks up from his book, closes his laptop softly and immediately nods, says _yeah, 'course_ , with shuffling his papers aside to make more room.

Niall only brought himself. And, well. Jay, too, but. Zayn doesn't need to make more room. The sentiment's nice, though.

Niall just feels more confident than before, like he can tack this away on the list of things he needs to do before. . . Before Jay's here. And he needs to do this. He needs to sit with Zayn and discuss everything. And maybe he wants to just talk to him, too, but this needs to be done.

"What were you doing?" Niall casually asks, surveys the blank sheets meshed in a haphazard pile by Zayn's shoulder.

Zayn looks at the papers, then. Gives a lazy shrug and says, "Nothing yet. Tried to find inspiration to draw something, but m'just coming up empty."

Niall finds a few loose traces of stencil on the pages, nothing concrete. There seems to be a sketch of a body on one, an unfocused arm and a blurry outline of a torso. That's it.

Niall would get up and move his chair closer, make sure he'll have Zayn's undivided attention for this, but he's already tired from going down the steps and his lower back aches and his feet are shit for walking. Moving around the house is a long, unwanted quest, at this point.

Niall wants to pretend it's raining, or snowing loudly, like a blizzard. Or maybe it's windy as fuck outside. He'd just like to focus on something, not have his whole mind on this discussion.

Zayn doesn't offer to stop the silence; he doesn't look at Niall nor tap a beat in impatience with an ink pen. He only sits as still as Niall, looks even more uncomfortable.

Niall hums, after a few awkward seconds. He scratches his nail, picks at his calloused fingertips. "Well," he sighs.

It's back to silence, and they don't. They don't _do_ this. They don't purposely drag the quietness for as long as possible. They don't stretch the silence mercilessly to make sure they're unharmed by the end. They don't do this. They _shouldn't_ do this. Niall doesn't want to do this like this, when Zayn can't spare a glance up at him and he, himself, is unsure how he'll react if Zayn does.

There is rain, then. Inside of Niall. A cold dripping of something messy colliding with his words he can't summon the strength to spill out. His tongue's stapled to the roof of his mouth, teeth locked together against his will.

He's suddenly not as confident as before.

"Whatever you have to tell me can't be any worse than anything you said before."

Niall looks up from his hand, finds Zayn staring at the table still, hands laid bare. He doesn't even give off the impression that he talked.

Zayn fumbly blinks, tightens his jaw with a shuddering breath. His hands clasp together, buries themselves in his lap when he hunches his back. "You can say it, Niall. It's fine."

"Are you okay?" Niall's voice is careful, edging on something sharp. He doesn't want to puncture a nerve but Zayn's making him fret. Zayn's never looked so unstable.

"I'm. Not okay," Zayn shakes his head, pinches his nose briefly before finally looking up at Niall. "But if it's fine, I don't really want to talk about that. Is that what you wanted to talk about, though?"

"No, it's. Not that, no. It's about Avery, actually."

"What's wrong with Ave?" Zayn's quick to ask, dropping whatever facade he's strapped to his face. It's a feat that Niall doesn't frown with the notion it took this for Zayn to react in any way towards him in so long.

"She's _fine_ ," Niall soothes, quirks a tiny smile when Zayn sags into his seat at that. "She's perfect. It's more. . . _us_. The way we are in front of her."

Zayn slowly nods, bites his lip and goes back to staring down. "Um."

"I don't want her to remember these last few days and think, I don't know, that we weren't happy with each other. That her parents couldn't be in the same room together."

"We can," Zayn mutters. "M'just giving you space, s'all. I'm still here. If you needed me, I'd be there."

Niall gives a quiet laugh, a noise that doesn't carry enough amusement to tip the uneasiness off course. "I know, Z. I know. But. . . If we can. Just for Ems' sake, if we can just, see telly together. Or cook a meal, the three of us. I think she knows we're--"

"Yeah, she knows. Ave's a smart girl, she knows."

It's Niall's turn to look away, because he doesn't know what to do with Zayn in this situation. Whenever Zayn's vulnerable or so fucking sad or just, _lost_ , Niall's there; or Niall makes sure he's there. And he knows where to touch and what to say and it may be difficult, but Zayn never stays in his pool of self-deprecation.

But there's a line now, a line Niall doesn't want to cross.

"I just." Zayn's foot thumps under the table, the heel of his palm tapping against the surface of it as he shakes. "This is all so fucking much, Niall. I don't remember anything being so hard."

"It doesn't have to be," Niall says lowly, shrugs apologetically when Zayn looks up at him. "I don't want to make you do something you're uncomfortable with, but. I don't know, Zayn. I never said to completely disappear from me, either."

"Me being around wasn't going to change your mind, either."

Niall clamps his mouth shut. If Zayn wants to start something, he'll have to wait another time because Niall's not going to feed into anything right now.

"I'm sorry." Zayns shakes his head. A groan emits from him when he rubs his face harshly, drops his hands on the table in defeat. "I'm sorry, I just. I'm so out of my mind, I don't know what's going on, to be honest."

Niall gnaws on his lip, straightens his back to clearly say, "Well. The, um. The papers shipped out already. Will be hearing something from court in a few days, so."

Zayn barks out a laugh, this sharp shrill that makes Niall jolt. And when Niall looks up he finds Zayn slumped over the table, both hands covering his face. "This isn't happening," Zayn's murmuring, shaking his head and making the words muffle. "This cannot be happening."

Niall keeps his mouth shut. He doesn't know where Zayn's getting at, what he's thinking about. What can't happen? They're getting a divorce? Niall's pulling all the strings to get it to happen? Niall's doing it in the first place?

"Okay."

. . . What?

"'Okay' what?" Niall asks.

"I won't disappear. Won't hide or," Zayn shrugs, pinches the corner of his lip when he looks up at Niall. "Won't give you space anymore. It seems you clearly don't need it, then."

He's joking. Or, aiming for something playful. Niall knows this because Zayn has a curve lifting his quivering mouth. His red mouth is the only genuine feature on his face, though; every other patch uncertain and hesitant. Because his nostrils flare every few seconds and his hazel eyes divert to the cupboard set by the window, the small trash bin by the door, the traced-inked bird on the back of his hand.

"The contrary, mate," Niall smirks. "Got meself a baby to hold for a few more months. Need all the space I can get."

Zayn laughs, closes his eyes with it. He's still on this. . .farther side, not daring to trespass the unspoken patch they've undeliberately grown between them.

But he laughs. And that's a _lot_. That's way more than Niall expected.

 

It's a progress. It's _work_. And Niall's never had to work at maintaining a friendship; never had to work through an overload of heavy tension and intense silence. But he and Zayn haven't been _just friends_ in years. Maybe Niall likes to believe they can simply be that again without complication. Maybe there's a strong belief in him chanting and protesting against its impossibilites, that it can happen if Niall puts enough effort; or if he doesn't pay too much mind; or if he grips the upper hand with an iron hold and lets Zayn know he can't mess up again; or if he lets whatever's supposed to happen just run its course.

Niall's always caught between hugging Zayn a little longer in the mornings or mindlessly patting his back in return. There are times Zayn can't look him in the eye for more than a minute, yet he basks Avery in all his attention and more once her voice rings through the air, and Niall debates testing Zayn again or leaving the room without another word. Zayn doesn't give his fair share of discussion at the dinner table and Niall doesn't know if he should call him out on it with a firm tone or nudge his ankle with his own, get hazel eyes to look up at him so Niall can assure him it's okay, that he _wants_ him to talk. That Zayn can't justify himself with what he did but neither can the incident permeate through any future intentions.

Niall's not the smartest person he knows. But he knows more than anyone, and everyone, and maybe even Zayn himself, the exhausting effort he's putting into making Niall forgive him, making Niall see he can do so much more than sleep around. Making him understand the extent of his truth when he says he won't do it again; and not because he was caught but because it's stupid, _he_ was stupid, and he'll never be so stupid again.

He will, but for many other reasons. And Niall believes all of it, believes all of him. And Niall may not be smart but he can be clever, and he knows at least _most_ of Zayn by this point to understand how honest and bearing he's presenting himself.

It's a work in progress. But Niall believes most good things, if not all, are a work in progress.

 

"So mind you," Zayn continues, open hands facing each other, flanking his chest as he delves more into the story.

Niall can't stop laughing.

"It's a little after noon, and my mum's in the kitchen, probably on the phone, and we're all screaming because the abandoned building just collapsed."

"You're all screaming," Niall repeats, hiccuping with laughter.

"Exactly," Zayn chuckles, dropping his hands with a shake of his head. "We're completely gutted our _real-life_ play house is laying in pieces, and we're close to tears, Liyha full-on bawled on the ground. So we're there by the corner, and mum comes along _screeching_ , thinking we're still in that house because--"

"I can picture Trisha so clearly," Niall's able to hiss, almost out of breath from all the laughing as he leans over the kitchen counter. It's a bit uncomfortable, with a heavy weight of _baby_ in his stomach pulling him down.

It's been a little over a month, near the end of March now. So Niall's belly is big and he's a very pregnant person walking around, cooking frequently, watching as much telly as possible.

They've been better, he and Zayn. They've conversed outside of simple necessary discussions and their daughter doesn't hold a wary eye around them anymore and they enjoy each other's company. They're _fine_. They're great and it's all really great most of the time.

Like right now, a little after midnight with their baby girl sleeping above them and beef turnovers frying on the stove, it's all great.

There's a new unspoken tradition, some tiny unplanned thing that started a night Zayn woke up to get a bottled water and found Niall in the kitchen with a half-arsed homemade pizza baking in the oven.

So they spend the day together and meet almost every night. And Zayn will take down the cooking book or Niall will bring up snapshots of a recipe he wants to try and they just talk. They talk about Avery and how she's starting to get really excited about going to school with Scarlett. They talk about how Dani's told them of Liam's silly and nervous antics from becoming a new father. They talk about themselves and they harmlessly joke about Jay and Zayn brings up tracks he's recently discovered and Niall can finally talk about the mindless thoughts with him.

A night last week Niall baked chicken, watched it sizzle in a thin surface of oil with a watering mouth as Zayn chopped salad behind him, added cherry tomatoes and cheese-flavored croutons with caesar dressing.

"To be honest," Zayn said, proud of his masterpiece as he shuffled the leaves around with cooking tongs, " _Tarturo_ has nothing on this right here."

Niall slowly turned away, waited until Zayn was looking at him. "Chill."

Another night they met up, a night Niall can't explain and doesn't like thinking of, he just was...not so happy with Zayn, couldn't deflect his monotonous tone nor did he want to. It was just, Zayn was such a piece of shit, really. And Niall pondered over the possibility of being pregnant from another man, relished over the _trauma_ Zayn'd go through if that was true.

Nights like this didn't go unnoticed by Zayn, either. Because after Niall finished his serving of hand-dipped coconut shrimp or bowl of whipped-cream-topped cereal, he'd walk away without a word and play a movie in the living room; a movie Zayn clearly and repeatedly expressed his hatred for. And Zayn wouldn't say anything, and Niall couldn't pinpoint _why_. But he didn't _care_. Since Zayn knew, anyway.

"Aren't you the best boy ever?" Niall cooed to Bosco, after Bosco jumped onto the sofa with him and nuzzled under his pale neck. "You'd never hurt me, right? You love me, don't you?"

Bosco lapped under his chin, clumsily padded the cushion under him with the unusual attention.

"You're my good boy" Niall murmured, resting his head back, scratching between Bosco's ears. "Until my baby boy gets here, you're the number one man in my life, right?"

Bosco stayed by him, kept the space between him and Zayn occupied for the remainder of the film.

When Niall discreetly brought his vision to beside him Zayn was pinching his bottom lip, watching the movie with a wrinkle between his eyebrows and the fingers of his other hand drumming against his knee.

Zayn never mentioned that night, neither the other occasions Niall summoned up the bitterness to exploit him in any way possible. It was like they never happened, and despite Niall's hidden desire for Zayn to say something about it, or confess it bothered him even the slightest, he knew nothing would be gained by that potential discussion.

So he let it be, and he accepts Zayn as a friend for the meantime. Yes, he's the father of his children, and his soon-to-be ex-husband, and Niall's been in love with him for almost half of his life. But this mental label for the man works better for Niall than he'll let on.

Tonight Zayn produces a story of when he was young, of a disowned house that used to barely stand behind his childhood home.

"That's," he tries to say through Niall's chortles that are bordering on unbearable. "Ni, that's not even funny." It's not, but Zayn still wears a smile that trembles in the corners. "My mum grounded us for that."

"Okay," Niall wheezes, turning around and leaning his lowerback against the counter. "Okay, that's not funny. I'm sorry. I take that back."

"You don't. Jerk." Zayn's not bothered, though. Goes over to the stove to flip the patties.

It's quiet for some time, besides some Kings of Leon tune playing from Zayn's laptop on the island, the audio on replay as Niall sways his head side to side to the beat. It's a nice song, very calming. The kind of song he'd listen to while cruising alone.

"Well, it's called Pyro, and the album cover is of like, an island or summat. So, yeah. It gives off an aura of isolation, you know?" Zayn had informed him after it played for the third time and Niall was really feeling it.

"You know in some countries they're called _Empanadas_ ," Niall flicks his head towards the cooking dish, once Zayn's done flipping them and he's leaning against the sink across Niall.

"Empanaduhs," he pronounces.

Niall shakes his head, holds back a tease. "Empa _nahdahs_."

Zayn looks at the sizzling pan, Niall, back again before shrugging with a smirk. "Fucking baby shepherds pie or some shit."

Niall hangs his head in defeat, pats his tummy to let Jay know his father is way more smart than he seems at the moment. _He's smarter than all of us, Jay, but clueless in the kitchen._

  
Once in a long while Avery will stay up with them, will pick out the entree herself while she hums a Taylor Swift song under her breath that Niall's sure Scar taught her.

They make rice and macaroni, and as she kneels in front of the coffee table mixing both delicacies together and Zayn's switching through the channels, he flicks through the middle of a risque scene, two lovers in bed with improper noises filling the air and he's not quick enough to change the channel.

" _Change it_ ," Niall demands, reaching for the remote before clasping a hand--a bit too roughly--over Avery's eyes. "Zayn, what the--"

"Piece of shit control won't," he fumbles, changes the channel onto a safer program displaying the creation of compact discs.

But Avery's already standing by the telly, whining and pointing at the screen. "Wait, no. Baba, put that back!"

"Wha-- No! You're too young to see stuff like that. That's for grown ups, little girl."

"But I wanna see that," she continues, going so far as to stump a little and give a little screech when Zayn shakes his head again.

"Know what?" Niall stands up, curls his fingers in repeatedly so she'll follow him. "That's enough from you, young lady. You're going to bed right now, it's late, anyway."

She follows without another word reluctantly, with her chin against her chest and a slow tread in her walk up the stairs.

Niall brushes her teeth, holds back an annoying smile when her pout doesn't go away because. She's so cute. She's the cutest girl he's laid eyes on in forever. Foreverrrrr.

"I don't want you seeing things like that on telly, ever, okay?" he lightly scolds when she's in bed, struggling to pull the blanket out of its fold with her tiny hand. She's said good night to Zayn already while Niall was putting her dirty clothes in the hamper. "That's for big people only. I better not catch you watching it."

"Okay," she whispers, blue eyes facing the action figure in her hand. Niall can't decipher if it's a dollar-store brand military soldier toy or Zayn's authentic G.I. Joe figurine.

"Give Daddy a kiss. Good night, princess, love you."

She sits up to kiss him, puckers her mouth and gives a soft hum when she moves back, still sitting. She hunches her back, lays her dented chin on her hand as she looks up at Niall. "Daddy?"

"Yes, babe?"

"I know you and Baba still love each other. Right?"

Niall looks over to her, was busy turning on her nightlight while she said this. "What was that, Ems?"

"I know," and she sighs, pushes her shoulders back before slumping forward again, "I know you and Baba still love each other, but I don't see you kissing."

Niall swallows, arches an eyebrow before composing himself. He pinches Avery's nose lightly, wiggles it in his grip as he scrunches up his face playfully. "Well, what does a pretty little girl like you know anything about love and kisses?"

"Do you and Baba still love each other? I think so, but I don't see you or him kissing."

"Well, cutie," he mulls in his head, eyebrows pinched in the middle. "Me and your Baba are happy. And we love you very, very much. Isn't that cool?"

She doesn't answer. And Niall wants to believe it's one of her signature quirks where she drops out of the conversation when she's bored with it. But her blue eyes are still bright, brimmed with too much clarity for almost bedtime.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she whispers, small tan hands over her cheesy smile.

Niall gasps, playing along with a fleeting hand over his belly. "Can Jay know, too? I don't think it'll be fair if you tell me and not your baby brother, he might cry, Ems."

"Of course!" she hisses, moving up the blanket until her mouth hovers over the side of Niall's stomach. "But you can't, tell, anyone. No one, Jay!" She sets her ear over the bulge of Niall's tummy, looks up at her father for affirmation.

"He said his lips are sealed." Niall zips his lips, leans over Avery with as much enthusiasm he can show. The last time she said there was a secret to tell she was two and Niall learned the new bad word that started with an F was 'fat.'

"Okay," she responds, riling herself up. "I _do_ know what love is."

"Really?" Niall raises his brows, has the courteousy to only chuckle a little before he bites his bottom lip. "Please tell me, I wanna know, too!"

"When me and Scar were playing in the jungle at my birthday," Niall remembers the manufactured maze of ladders leading into ball pits and space shuttles that hovered over midair, attached on one side to the complete assemble of the every child's dreamland, "she said she knew what was love because Uncle Harry talked to her about that; that love was when you love someone else as much as yourself. So she told me she loves her Daddy and Papa as much as she likes herself."

"And is that what you think love is?"

"No." She shakes her head casually, bites on a fingernail before looking at Niall. "Love is when a person is mad, and you're mad too. Or when they cry, so do you. Because you love them so much that you feel everything they do."

"That's a cool way of looking at it. Tell Baba this in the morning, he'll love to hear about it, babe," Niall yawned, rubbing her hair and pushing her bangs out of her eyes.

"M'kay." She lays down, tucks the blanket under her chin before Niall can do it for her. "That's why I know you and Baba love each other. Because you're both sad."

"W--" Niall freezes momentarily, tilts his head to the side when her words process a bit slower, more moderate for him to understand. "What, Avery?"

But she only giggles, hides under the blanket and Niall knows he's not going to get anything else out of her.


End file.
